


Triathalon

by stellarsketches



Series: Marathon [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Ann is gay and perfect, Canon Compliant, Elaborate Gay Chicken, Equally Platonic Hand Holding, Flirting, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Injuries, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Rating May Change, Sharing a Bed, Spoilers, Totally Platonic Shower Sharing, Wet Dream, also ann is taller than in canon bc i deserve a tall girl in my life, au where everything is the same but akira's 4 inches shorter, long ass ride, no one knows how, not yet but eventually, sojiro is the cool dad, somehow yusuke knows about the two bros sharing a bed platonically trope, what do you mean shiho is only in ann's s-link once?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11407542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarsketches/pseuds/stellarsketches
Summary: "And then Ryuji flashes Akira a smile so wide, Akira can only describe it as dazzling. His heart thuds behind his ribs as he turns back to his own bowl to hide the goofy smile threatening to spread across his face."Akira wouldn't describe whatever he has with Ryuji as love at first sight but even from the beginning there's something between them, and time will only tell where it leads.Do you ever wish Persona 5 would get gayer? Hi friends, I'm here to help with that.





	1. Le Début

**Author's Note:**

> local frizzy haired kid is inexplicably attracted to vulgar boy he just met. thankfully there are many things to distract from that

 

**4/12**

 

It’s his second time, but Akira doesn’t find Kamoshida’s palace any less strange or disorienting. For a moment he stands in the alleyway blinking at the students loitering around Shujin, totally unaware that their gym teacher is some kind of perverted sadist that wears a speedo and a cape in his head.

Next to him Ryuji stands up straight with a wince. If he’s anything like Akira, he’s sore and achy from their time in the Palace. Akira takes a moment to study Ryuji’s profile. The blonde worries his bottom lip with his teeth, gaze uncharacteristically contemplative.

Then Akira stomach growls. It tears through the silence startling them both. They turn to each other and after a moment they dissolve into loud, uncontrollable laughter. It’s not that funny, in retrospect, but after the heavy atmosphere of the palace, Akira’s stomach noises is a welcome relief.

Crooked grin back in place, Ryuji thumps Akira heartily on the back. “Well. Somebody’s hungry. I’ll treat you to something nice. Kay?”

Akira couldn’t even dream of saying no to the bright smile Ryuji’s giving him.

 

**__________________________________**

 

They end up in the beef bowl place in Shibuya, sitting close enough together that Ryuji’s elbow bumps Akira in his side as he digs into his extra large beef bowl.

“Sho shome asshole lied ‘nd got you arrested?” Ryuji asks around a mouthful of rice. It’s a miracle Akira can understand what he’s saying, but he nods. “Man that ‘effin SUCKS!” Ryuji smacks a hand down on the bar, nearly sending one of his chopsticks flying.

“No need to get all upset,” Akira smiles wryly, returning Ryuji's errant chopstick, pretending not to notice the dirty look a woman near them shoots them.

“Of course I'm upset! You got a shit deal just because you wanted to help! It ain't fair, man!” Ryuji fumes, angrier even than Akira’s parents had been when the authorities got ahold of them. For a moment Akira can’t think of a response, so unused to someone showing genuine concern for his situation.

“Ya know I was just thinking we’re kinda similar,” Ryuji muses, sitting back in his seat with furrowed brows.

“How so?” Akira props his chin on his fist, giving Ryuji his full undivided attention.

“Ah well, y’know. The way people around Shujin kept avoiding you and treatin’ you like you don’t belong?” Here he cuts his eyes to glance at Akira, and when he gets a nod back, the blonde continues on. “I’ve been through the same thing. A while back I did something stupid at school and...well.”

“Something stupid?” Akira parrots, “Did you set the principal’s toupee on fire? Is that why he’s bald?”

This catches Ryuji off guard; he nearly spits out all of the food in his mouth he laughs so hard. “Dude what!?” Ryuji manages through peals of laughter. He catches the smug, satisfied look on Akira’s face and punches him lightly on the arm. “That’’s not--that’s not what happened at all. Do I look like the kind of person to do that?”

“Do you _seriously_ want me to answer that?” Akira laughs, and if Ryuji didn’t find the way Akira’s shoulders shake with his laughter charming, he’d be more offended.

“Your sense of humor is just…” Ryuji closes his eyes and shakes his head. “But all of that stuff is in the past. Y’know you’re the first person at Shujin I’ve felt could understand me. Thanks man.”

And then Ryuji flashes Akira a smile so wide, Akira can only describe it as dazzling. His heart thuds behind his ribs as he turns back to his own bowl to hide the goofy smile threatening to spread across his face.

Luckily for Akira’s pride, Ryuji preoccupies himself by lifting his bowl and shoveling the rest of his beef bowl into his mouth. Akira watches, one part amused and one part embarrassed at the shower of rice and beef that falls onto the table.

“You live in Yongen, right? The trains are pretty packed ‘round now so you’d prolly want to kill some time before you go home.”

Akira wants to ask Ryuji to hang out more, but he chickens out before he can.

 

**__________________________________**

 

**4/15**

 

If his parents thought sending him to the city would keep him out of trouble, they were completely, utterly, totally _wrong._

The sudden thought makes Akira laugh out loud, and next to him Mishima throws him a confused look.

“Something funny, Kurusu-kun?”

“Not really. But if we make it to the faculty office and Ryuji and Kamoshida are sitting around having tea together it might be then,” Akira grumbles, trying his best to remember whether he’s supposed to make a left or a right after rounding this corner.

It would be just his luck that his first (and only) friend would end up getting expelled from drop kicking their P.E. teacher through a window, and the pit of worry growing in Akira’s chest impedes his sense of direction.

Poor Mishima doesn’t laugh at Akira’s retort, just looks more afraid for his safety.

 

**__________________________________**

 

They find Ryuji alone with Kamoshida in the P.E. staff faculty's office. Well actually they _hear_ Ryuji the moment they round the round the corner, yelling at Kamoshida to be a man and fight face to face.

Thankfully, they’re not full on fighting once they arrive, but it’s obvious in the tense lines of Ryuji’s body that at any second he could snap. Akira racks his brain, thinking of any bullshit excuse that could be used to play this whole thing off as an elaborate prank or very, very, _very_ bad joke.

“Who do you think you are barging in here like this?” Kamoshida asks, looking at the three of them in turn with disdain.

“What the hell did you do to that girl to make her want to kill herself? You call yourself teacher?” Ryuji yells and Akira prays to whatever god abandoned him months ago that this doesn’t escalate.

Kamoshida has the nerve to play dumb. “What are you talking about?”

“Cut the bullshit!” Ryuji sends a chair skidding across with a kick, and at the open display of aggression, Kamoshida rises from his seat. “You abused Suzui and the rest of the volleyball team like some kind of bastard!”

“It’s called discipline. Something your sorry excuse of a father failed to show you before he ran off.” Kamoshida smiles, when Ryuji recoils at the words, and Akira can’t help but ball up his fists in anger.

“What you did wasn’t discipline,” Mishima, who hasn’t spoken a word since entering the room, raises his head to look Kamoshida in the eye. “You called Suzui here yesterday. Who knows what you did to her to make her jump?”

“And you’ll never know. The hospital called: Suzui’s in a coma and her chances of recovery are slim to none. Someone in that condition can’t give a statement to the police.” Kamoshida leans down condescendingly, so that he’s on eye level with them. “As far as I’m concerned this is just the case of a spoiled brat hiring two thugs because he couldn’t get on starting lineup--”

“That’s not what this is about!” Mishima interjects.

“And we’re not thugs! We’re jus’ sick of your shit, you asshole!” Ryuji looks about ready to knock a couple of Kamoshida’s teeth out. Akira doesn’t think at this point he’d try and stop him.

“Go ahead and hit me,” Kamoshida goads with a smile, and when Ryuji hesitates his mocking grin grows bigger. “But you can’t, right? You so much as touch me, you’re out of here for good.”

The tension in the room rises as Ryuji and Kamoshida stare each other day. Ryuji practically shakes in barely restrained anger, before he stands down.

With a flourish, Kamoshida turns back to sit at his desk, “Everyone present here will be expelled.” And Akira’s heart drops to his stomach. “At the next board meeting this...encounter will be reported. Hope you’re prepared to be dropouts, because that’s exactly where you’re headed.”

Mishima and Ryuji both protest loudly, but Akira can’t process what they’re saying. The word “expulsion” rings around in his head. He hasn’t even been at Shujin for a week. Sojiro is gonna find out and grind his body into coffee beans. And his parents would allow it.  

 

**__________________________________**

 

Before they go back to class, Ryuji pulls Akira aside in the stairwell. When Akira glances at him quizzically, Ryuji scratches the back of his head with a pained look on his face. “I just wanted to apologize. I...wasn’t thinking and now we’re gonna be expelled…”

Akira can’t help but smile a bit at Ryuji’s sincerity. “In your defense, Suzui jumped off the fucking roof this morning. Who wouldn’t be upset?”

“I guess…But getting expelled will cause my mom so much trouble, and...and...holy shit!” Ryuji grabs two fistfuls of Akira’s jacket, shaking him a little bit. “Dude! If you get kicked out here, that’s it! I’ve practically ruined our lives!”

Akira places his hands over the ones half-strangling them. “Ryuji. It’s okay. We’re not expelled yet.”

“How is this okay?” Ryuji suddenly looks down, taking note that they’re practically holding hands, and loosens his hold on Akira’s hands, face tinged pink. “H-how could we get that bastard Kamoshida to change his mind?”

Pointedly ignoring, the charming (no not charming _fuck no_ he didn’t think that at _all_ ) blush on Ryuji’s cheeks, and ignoring the heat in his own face, Akira says “We still have that other world. Remember what Morgana said? We defeat his Shadow he’ll commit to all his crimes.”

“True…” Ryuji mumbles. “But Morgana’s not the most trustworthy source.”

“Hey!” Morgana darts out of Akira’s bag, climbing onto Akira’s shoulders to level a glare at Ryuji. “I am not untrustworthy. I’m 89% sure my plan will work.”

Akira gives Ryuji a thumbs up, who can’t help but to laugh.

“Well….75% sure,” Morgana amends. “Okay 52%.”

“WHAT THE HELL? WHY’S IT GETTIN’ SMALLER EVERY TIME?”

Akira can’t help himself; he bursts into the laughter, doubling over and nearly toppling him and Morgana down the flight of stairs. “Snrk--hahahaha. You guys are--hahahaha. I can’t. I can’t stop--laugh ahahahaha.”

The sound of Akira’s laughter drowns out Ryuji’s and Morgana’s argument, and finally they stop bickering to watch Akira struggle for breath.

“Fine,” Ryuji says with a sigh, slouching over. “We’ll stop Kamoshida Morgana’s way. We got this, right, Akira?”

Til the day he dies Akira will say that the way his heart thumps at the way Ryuji holds his hand out to him with a grin was because of his laughter.

 

**__________________________________**

 

“It feels like I’ve aged twenty years in one day,” Ann groans. Her eyes are a bit red still from crying, and the way she leans against the train’s window hides none of her fatigue. Akira smiles sympathetically. What happened to Suzui was shocking enough but adding on the threat of expulsion and fighting their way through the Palace is the icing on the “world’s shittiest day cake”.

“I think today has been the second most draining day of my life,” Akira agrees.

“What was the first?”

“Getting arrested.”

Ann pales, “I can’t tell if that was meant to be a joke or not.” When Akira offers nothing else but a vaguely ominous adjustment of his glasses, Ann slumps back against the seat.

“Don’t worry Lady Ann,” Morgana says, full of confidence as usual. “With your power now we’re strong enough to steal Kamoshida’s heart and make him pay. And with my expertise I’ll whip you rookies into shape in no time!”

“I guess that is the bright side to all of this.” Ann turns determined eyes to the both of them. “Alright! We’re gonna make that bastard pay for what he did! And no going in without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Akira grins.

“Good!” Ann smiles back, looking a bit more energized. “Oh yeah. There is one thing I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Akira makes a questioning noise, and when he looks back, Ann’s smile has taken on a sharper tilt. “How close are you with Ryuji?”

“Close enough where we’re getting expelled together in two weeks.”

“That’s….not something to joke about,” Morgana groans.

“That it?” Ann digs.

“Uh….we went for beef bowls once?”

“Huh. Interesting.” Before Akira can get the chance to ask _why_ Ann’s so interested all of sudden, the train announcement calls overhead and Ann stands up with her things. “Oh look at that, it’s my stop! Thanks for everything today! I’ll be counting on you from now on!"

And with a bounce of her hair, Ann’s getting off the train leaving Akira alone with more questions than answers.

 


	2. L'élévation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akira finds that exercise isn't that bad when ur work out buddy is both cute and into u

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive literally tried 292929292929 times to update this chapter.....i cant believe ao3 hates akiryu or just me who knows. spoilers for the first palace (if it ever uploads)

**4/21**

 

With a series of clunks, the vending machine drops Akira’s Dr. Salt Neo into the bottom compartment. He struggles with the tab for a moment, and just as the tab gives with a _pop!_ his phone vibrates suddenly in his pocket.

Akira fishes his out his phone, and isn’t surprised when he notices Ryuji’s messaged him.

**Ryuji:** yo! where are you rn

 

**Akira:** Uh…..by the vending machines¿

**Akira:** Did you get stuck in the bathroom stall again?

                 

**Ryuji:** d u d E

**Ryuji:** that was ONE time

**Ryuji:** let it GO

 

**Akira:** nEVER ;p

 

**Ryuji** : ugh

 

**Akira:** Did you need something?

 

**Ryuji** : maybe i dnt wanna tell u now

 

**Akira:** Please?

**Akira:** Pretty please?

**Akira:** I won’t bring up the bathroom thing again

 

**Ryuji** : good

**Ryuji:** were u planning on going to the palace today

 

**Akira:** I hadn’t thought about it honestly.

 

**Ryuji** : well as we were runnin around the other day i noticed i cant run like i used to

**Ryuji:** nd look outside! its perfect out! wanna do some training?

 

**Akira:** You’ll be gentle with me right

 

**Ryuji:** just meet outside the gym

 

**Akira** : Kay :3

 

**Ryuji** : and dont forget your gym clothes!!!!!!

 

“Huh. Even Ryuji has good ideas every once in awhile,” Morgana chirps. “Alright let’s get moving--what’re you smiling for?”

“N-nothing,” Akira blurts out, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop the goofy smile creeping across his face.

 

**__________________________________**

  


Akira makes his way over to the side of the gym to find Ryuji standing in what Akira is beginning to see is typical Ryuji fashion. The sleeves and pants legs of his uniform are rolled up, and the moment he catches sight of Akira he grins and waves enthusiastically.

“Welcome to my secret training spot! Er...my old secret training spot. It really brings back memories,” Ryuji stretches, arms high above his head.

“Oh yeah you ran track,” Akira remembers Kawakami mentioning something to that effect earlier.”I could’ve been your personal cheerleader.”

Ryuji shakes his head fondly, “I really can’t tell when you’re joking or not. But I’ve been thinking about runnin’ again.’

“On the team?” Akira follows Ryuji’s lead and starts stretching, seating himself down in the grass to bend forward,reaching towards his toes.

“Nah.” Ryuji makes a face, “That’s...not possible.” For a moment he looks conflicted, but his expression clears quickly and he nudges Akira in the side. “C’mon, you gotta bend more than that.”

Without hesitation, Ryuji places a hand on Akira’s back, pushing him forward so that Akira touches his toes fully. Akira grunts at the stretch but continues to reach forward, and with an impressed noises Ryuji says, “You’re pretty flexible for a guy.”

“I used to do gymnastics when I was younger.”

“That’s kinda of….” Ryuji mumbles, and Akira’s so caught up in breathing deeply he misses the last part of Ryuji’s sentence.

“Kind of what?”

“N-nothing!” The hands on Akira’s back retreat suddenly, making Akira turn back to look at the blonde curiously. Ryuji’s not making eye contact, something in the distance must be _very_ interesting.

“So…” Akira starts, quick to dispel the strange tension, “What makes you want to run again?”

“Oh! Well fightin’ all those Shadows in the other world was a real shock.” Ryuji jumps on the subject, quick to move past the awkward moment. “Couldn’t move the way I wanted to. Back when I was on the team I could run miles, no problem. ‘S weird being this weak again.”

“Miles. Ugh my body hurts just thinking about that.”

“‘S not that bad,” but Ryuji lights up with thinly veiled pride. “C’mon if you did gymnastics, runnin’ and stuff shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

At Ryuji’s prompting, Akira stands to do some calf stretches, “It’s nice that you think so highly of me. They wanted us to do a training regimen but getting up at 6 in the morning and avoiding jelly donuts weren’t really my thing.”

Ryuji laughs fondly, “Well we can whip ourselves into shape together. And getting stronger means I might be able to help out more in the other world too!”

“I’ll be counting on you,” Akira flashes Ryuji his trademark grin, making the blonde beam right back at him.

“Alright! Now I’m pumped! Let’s get going!” Ryuji takes off with a laugh, leaving Akira to scramble to catch up. They run a circuit around the school, and Akira finds the exercise...enjoyable. His lungs feel they might burst at times, and his legs ache the next morning, but running next to Ryuji, with the light catching his dyed hair, it’s not awful.

 

**__________________________________**

 

**4/27**

 

The relief Akira feels as Kamoshida’s, now repentant, Shadow disappears is incredibly short-lived. Beneath their feet, the floors begin to quake, and while none of them have had the fabric of their reality disintegrate before, it’s not too hard to understand what’s going on.

“Mona! What the hell is happening?” Ann dodges a particularly large chunk of the ceiling to shoot a heated look at Morgana.

“Once the Shadow disappears the Palace falls apart. Did I forget to mention that part?”

“Are you trying to get us killed!?” Ryuji yells, incredulous. Morgana cradles the treasure to himself protectively, and is about to retaliate when the hallway behind them practically explodes.

“Less talking more running for your lives, please!” Akira yells, taking off down one of the (not yet) destroyed corridors. With a yell, the rest follow him, the urgency of the situation catching up with them.

They dodge falling chandeliers, overturned chairs, and exploding windows. Akira hasn’t been this scared since that one Shadow nearly chopped his head off. Which was like two weeks ago, but still.

“We’re gonna die. We are _so_ gonna die,” Ann chants, hair flying every which way and when Akira glances back her, there’s a wild glint in her eyes.

“We’re _not_ dying here,” Akira reassures, full of confidence even as a bust of Kamoshida nearly crushes him to death as it comes tumbling down. “Try being a bit more positive, Panther!”

“What is there to be positive about?” Ann yells back.

“Running for our lives counts as weekly cardio!” As Akira grins, Ann rolls her eyes but adds nothing else.

“You wouldn’t happen to know any shortcuts to get us out of here faster--HOLY SHIT!” Ryuji dodges a piece of the ceiling just in the nick of time.

Morgana leaps off of Ann’s back, in his quadrupedal cat form, onto Akira’s shoulder. “Run faster!” Morgana calls back.

“Easy for him to say,” Ann grumbles, “He’s catching a ride on J--!”

She cuts herself off when behind them, Ryuji drops to the ground. Akira feels his heart drop down to his stomach. Without thinking he skids to a stop, already headed back to his downed teammate.

Akira thinks he hears Ann yell something, probably Ryuji’s name because the blonde looks up at them, but Akira’s pulse thrums so hard in his ears he can’t hear clearly.

Ryuji doesn’t appear to be hurt, he grins up at them “Sorry! It’s been a while and I tripped!” He makes a move to get up, but pauses when he catches the worried look Akira’s giving him.

“Unless you want to be crushed under tons of rubble…” Morgana cuts in, “I would suggest you all RUN!”

On cue, the three of look back to see a wave of Palace rubble coming straight for them. Ryuji sputters, climbing to his feet to grab Akira’s wrist and pull him along.

 

**__________________________________**

 

**5/2**

 

A short list of things one (1) Akira Kurusu has done the week following stealing Kamoshida’s Treasure.

 

  1. Receive increasingly less confident reassurances from Morgana that everything will turn out fine
  2. Give reassurance that he doesn’t fully believe in himself to Ann, Ryuji, and Mishima
  3. Draft the speech he plans on giving to his parents if he’s expelled
  4. Forget to return his rented DVDs for eight days in a row
  5. Win 5000 yen at the Shibuya lottery and blow it all in three days after treating Ryuji and Ann to snacks from the vending machine
  6. Have vivid dreams of Principal Kobayakawa’s bald spot rendering him into dust after his expulsion



 

That Monday when they’re all called for an assembly, frankly Akira is ready to meet his fate. Around him, students are abuzz with curiosity. One girl is saying, loudly, that Kobayakawa must have caught whoever posted that “calling card” the other day when Ryuji emerges from the crowd to stand near Akira.

Without thinking about it, Akira relaxes a fraction. Ryuji shoots him a weak smile, before turning back to the stage.

“As you all know,” Kobayakawa starts, adjusting his too tight shirt collar. “Recently there was a great tragedy here at Shujin. We’ve been informed that she’s regained consciousness, but will need more time to recover.”

Akira breathes a sigh of relief. He can’t help but look for Ann in the crowd, watching her shoulders sag in a moment of temporary comfort.

“That’s _some_ good news from all of this,” Ryuji whispers. Akira’s hyper-aware of Ryuji’s body heat as he leans closer. Ryuji’s lips are _this_ close to the other’s ear and for a moment, Akira’s brain short-circuits.

Without thinking he goes “Now all we need is Kamoshida to come in with a ‘I fucked up’ t-shirt and grovel at our feet.”

Ryuji snorts and opens his mouth to retort when the door to the gym slams open. They all rubberneck to find Kamoshida standing in the doorway, hair wild and unkempt. HIs posture is uncharacteristically submissive, and with his overconfident veneer gone, it takes a moment for everyone to realize exactly who it is standing there.

Kobayakawa may be the most surprised of them all, “Kamoshida what is the meaning of this--”

“I have...been reborn,” Kamoshida proclaims, voice low, but still carrying across the dead silent assembly. “I must confess my sins.”

And then Kamoshida drags himself to the stage to confess it all. He even falls to his knees and begs for forgiveness. Jaws dropped, the boys tear their eyes away from the miracle happening in front of them to make eye contact.

“All he needed was the shirt,” Ryuji mutters.

“It’s still one of the best moments of my life,” Akira deadpans.

  
  


**__________________________________**

  


Akira receives no less than thirty text messages telling him to come up to the roof after class from Ann and Ryuji both.

The door isn’t even closed all the way when Akira finds himself swept up into a giant bear hug. “We did it!” Ryuji crows, lifting Akira off his feet like it’s nothing and spinning him around a bit. “Kamoshida confessed to his crimes and we didn’t fuck up his mind! This couldn’t have gone any better!”

Morgana makes a noise of protest, hopping out of Akira’s bed to sit haughtily on an abandoned desk. “I told you everything would be okay!”

“Well excuse me if I find it hard to trust a talking cat!” Ryuji goes back to swinging Akira around, “Thank you so much, man! I wouldn’t have been able to make it through all of this.”

Akira can feel Ryuji’s sincerity, which is touching, but he’s also losing his gay mind. It’s not his fault. Who wouldn’t swoon after being picked up by a cute boy? Akira can’t help it. But thankfully he doesn’t voice his inner thoughts, instead he says, “It wasn’t just me. We all helped each other.”

Mentally, Akira pats himself on the back, he sounds coherent and completely focused.

“Ah, man I could used to this life! Justice sure is sweet!”

“Do you have to be so loud?” Ann steps onto the roof with a frown, though her serious expression melts a bit when she catches sight of the two, Ryuji still literally sweeping Akira off his feet.

“Let me have some fun.” Ryuji pouts, setting Akira down, “I have at least three gray hairs from this week of waiting alone. So uh...how’s Shiho?”

Instantly, Ann smiles, “Kobayakawa wasn’t lying! She’s regained consciousness!” When Akira and Ryuji make surprised noises, Ann nods, tears welling up in her eyes. “I even got to talk to her for a little while. I told her Kamoshida confessed to everything, and then...and then she apologized to me. And this whole time I had wanted to apologize to her.”

Morgana hops off the desk to plant himself near Ann’s feet in a gesture of reassurance. “This was all Kamoshida’s fault.”

“Yeah. You were both victims in this. No one’s at fault.” Akira agrees. He fishes out a badly crumpled napkin for Ann to take. She eyes the wrinkled (but thankfully not stained) napkin with a weak laugh.

“Thanks. Shiho’s mom is thinking of having her transfer schools. After….everything too many people will label her, you know?”

“Sounds lonely,” Ryuji mumbles, but after a beat of silence he goes “But you can always visit her.”

Ann nods, looking less distraught. “Mhm! And I think it’s for the best. She deserves a fresh start, and I’ll be cheering her on. And I won’t be lonely!” Ann wipes her eyes, and smiles wide, her cheeriness magnified by the bright, sunny weather. “I have you guys! We’re not just teammates we’re friends!”

“Damn right!” Ryuji cheers. “We took down Kamoshida an’ now nothing can stop us!” Ryuji hooks an arm around Akira’s neck, pulling him closer and nearly knocking his glasses off.

“Some of us may even become more than friends,” Ann chirps, making _direct_ eye contact with Akira. He pretends not to notice.

“Do you mean best friends?” Morgana gasps, “ I wanna be best friends with you, Lady Ann!”

_Bless Morgana’s dense heart,_ Akira thinks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT FINALLY POSTED RIGHT. I HAD TO RETYPE THE FIRST PART IN AO3'S RICH TEXT EDITOR.....IM SO TIRED. anyways as for the gymnastics thing one day i was playing p5 and it hit me that joker does a fucking backflip every time there's a hold up??? and then in the opening he was leaping out of that fucking window like it was nothing???? and i thought "oh what if he did gymnastics at the old school". also during the part when ryuji fell i got so scared???? like i screamed why did atlus? it also bothers me that you basically...watch ann cry on the roof. i wanted to comfort her!!!!! that's my white dorter!!!! ive gotten off track....i really enjoyed this chapter! ive never written a getting together fic so im enjoying the slow burn! see yall in the next chapter there'll be study dates!


	3. La Taquiner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ryuji's a subtle flirt, ann is the best, and akira's in denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 5 am

**5/5**

  
  


The buffet Ann picks out is good. Better than good. Great. Magnificent. Mouth Watering. More than makes up for the hell the past few weeks have been. Akira’s more than just a little surprised, he’s seen Ann eat nothing but whipped cream out of the can before following it up with a bag of cereal marshmallows. Honestly he’d been worried Ann’s taste would potentially killed him, but she picked a good place. 

A man in a flashy black suit shoots Akira a dirty look before turning to his overly done up date, “Who let such undignified children in here?”

The clientele could definitely stand to be improved. 

In retaliation, Akira takes all of the remaining filet-whatever the man had been eyeing. With a satisfied smirk, Akira slinks away back to their table, plate piled high with food. 

“Whoa mwan,” Ryuji exclaims, mouth full of high-quality sausage, “You brought a lot back. Whaddya think about eating at a ritzy hotel?”

“I’m so happy I could die,” Akira mumbles, picking up a slice of cake and holding it close. “Thank you so much Kamoshida.” He has a tender moment with the cake, touching it to his cheek reverently. Ann giggles when a glob of whipped cream sticks to his cheek. 

Ryuji snorts,“That’s kinda cute comin’ from someone like you.” It takes a moment for the words to sink in but when they do, Akira can feel his cheeks warm. 

To make matters worse, Ryuji notices the mess on Akira’s face and leans forward to wipe it off with napkin swiped off the table. “I wouldn’t have expected it, but you’re a bit of a messy eater,” Ryuji laughs and Akira gives a hollow one in reply. He’s too busy remembering to breathe and function like a human being, not just a bundle of nerves and hormones. 

His brain is no longer sending messages to his body, or perhaps his hands are so caught up in the urge to touch Ryuji back, they forget what they  _ should  _ be doing. The strawberry perched precariously on top of the cake plops off into his lap. Before Akira can even blink, Morgana’s snatched it up. The  _ traitor.  _

“You’re one to talk about being messy,” Ann chimes in. Without even looking at her, Akira knows she’s wearing the  _ look _ . The look that means she knows that once they all part ways they’re gonna have another lengthy phone call about how  _ obvious  _ his crush is. As much as Ann enjoys teasing Akira, she’s a good listener, and gives better advice than anyone else he knows. Way better than the strawberry thief, Morgana.

Suddenly, his chair is being kicked, and Akira jerks to attention to catch the tail end of Ann and Ryuji’s most recent argument. 

“Are you trying to say I don’t have manners?” Ryuji asks, scandalized. 

“Is that surprising?” Morgana looks up from his fish to shoot Ryuji a smug look. “Didn’t you practically rip Kamoshida’s desk in half?”

“Wha-!? No! That’s a dumb rumor. Like hell I can rip a desk in ha--and you were  _ there,  _ you bastard!”

“It’s okay Ryuji,” Ann and she casually--oh so casually--kicks Akira’s chair again, “I’m sure someone’ll think your messy eating habits are cute!” She makes a face. “....somehow.”

That’s when Akira realizes there’s sauce all over Ryuji’s face, and Akira wouldn’t be surprised if he got some in his hair. He knows he should be disgusted by the mess, but honestly, it’s so completely  _ Ryuji  _ that Akira can’t help but find it endearing. 

“I’ve got it bad, don’t I?” Akira groans to himself, resisting the temptation to bury his face in the mashed potatoes.

“Absolutely,” Ann and Morgana say at the exact same time. 

 

**__________________________________**

  
  
  


“Alright!” Ryuji cheers, determined to make the most out of their rapidly dwindling buffet time, “Akira! Morgana! Let’s deal with this ourselves!”

Morgana looks at the mountain of food they’ve collected dubiously. Akira shows no sign of hesitation, nodding in Ryuji’s direction before diving in. Ryuji’s pleased with the response, not only will he not have to kill himself eating, but their leader’s finally getting a meal that isn’t curry or purchased from a convenience store. 

When he brought it up to Ann she stared at him like he had grown a second head. There’s nothing wrong with being concerned for their teammate’s health. But Ann treated it like some kind of omen..or maybe a miracle, Ryuji couldn’t really tell. 

Twenty minutes later Ryuji is regretting one or two of his decisions. The table looks more like a battleground than anything else: there’s about a mountain of plates all covered with crumbs and sauce smears. 

Morgana's half engulfed by the carnage, but Ryuji's too preoccupied trying to decipher what the ominous gurgling from his stomach means. 

Ann takes in the scene of their pyrrhic victory in disbelief, “I can't believe you ate  _ all _ of that.”

“You encouraged us to do it, and you didn't even believe we could do it?” Ryuji tries to lift himself off the table so he can properly reprimand Ann for her lack of faith, but the slightest movement sends his stomach into a frenzy. “Ugh. Too full to argue…” he groans, slumping back onto the table. 

“Well, Idiot number one is down, how do you feel, Akira?” At least he’s managed to stay upright, but there’s still an expression of  _ I shouldn’t have done this  _ plastered across his face. 

Just as Ann begins to truly fear that Akira’s slipping into a food coma right before their eyes, he groans and says “My pants feel three sizes too small.”

“Only three?”

“You’re right. Seven sizes too small.”

“We may have suffered some casualties, but this was an overwhelming victory,” Ryuji says. He sounds more confident than he feels, honestly if he sees anymore food he might throw up. Or die. Or both. 

A dangerous glint appears in Ann’s eyes, and instinctively, Ryuji fears for his life. “How about one more thing to cleanse your palate? Try the seasonal tart! The grapefruit’s tangy and sweet--”

Just the thought of it makes Ryuji’s stomach hurt. 

“--and the texture’s so soft and creamy--”

He really might throw up. 

His stomach gives a sudden lurch. “I think….I need to go to the bathroom.” And even standing up makes the nausea even worse. 

“M-me too…” Morgana adds, looking as sick as a cat can be, “Please carry me gently.” Akira looks between the two of them concerned, and possibly mildly grossed out at what horrors that may await him in the bathroom. Ryuji’s confident he won’t throw up in front of the one person he wants to keep his dignity in front of. 

He throws up. 

They waddle past a dozen or so of disapproving adults, who watch them with either mild disgust or blatant irritation. Some of them make snide comments here or there but Ryuji’s too focused on putting one step in front of the other. It’s too bad the ornate, spiralling pattern of the carpet makes him feel even worse. 

Five steps into the brightly decorated bathroom, his bodily functions override his dignity. And because Akira is a saint, a gentle angel from above with nice lips and eyes and--okay he’s losing train of thought--he  _ doesn’t  _ run out of there screaming. 

He doesn’t freak out when Ryuji runs desperately to the nearest stall, just hands him paper towels unprompted, and kneels down next to him to rub soothing little circles in Ryuji’s back. It’s comforting. Enough so that when Ryuji sits back from clutching the toilet to lean against Akira’s shoulder, like it’s natural. 

“That was pretty gross,” Ryuji says mildly, resigned to the misfortune of puking his guts out in front of his first close relationship since the Kamoshida incident got him labeled as a good-for-nothing-troublemaker. Ryuji just takes the bottle of water offered to him, drinking deeply. 

Akira makes himself more comfortable on the floor, leaning more heavily against the stall divider, seemingly unbothered by the weight of Ryuji’s head on his shoulder, “Don’t worry I’ve seen worse. Remember when that Shadow exploded and all that black stuff got everywhere? Nothing can top that.”

“Oh man and it  _ smelled.  _ Like rotten eggs.”

“And that one abandoned gym bag Mishima found in the locker room.”

Ryuji pretends to gag, “Dude, stop or I'll really puke again.”

“Please don't,” Akira whines as he scoots out of range. Ryuji has the instinctive urge to follow, to get back into Akira’s space. But he’s not too sure he wants to figure out why he feels that way. 

Instead he says, “I can’t believe we’re sitting on the floor of a hotel bathroom. I’m surprised no one’s come to kick us out.”

Akira laughs loudly, and Ryuji’s toes curl unconsciously at the sound. Seriously, Akira places a hand of Ryuji’s shoulder. “There’s no one I’d rather get caught hanging out on the bathroom floor of an overpriced hotel than you.”

Right on cue there’s a knock on the stall door. 

  
  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


“So,” Ann starts in lieu of greeting, “You and Ryuji…”

Even over the phone Akira can visualize the smug look on her face. Part of him wants to go back in time and punch himself when he got the brilliant idea to let Ann in on his super teeny tiny (who is he kidding it’s  _ massive _ ) crush on Ryuji. The other part knows that if he didn’t have someone to whine to, the force of his gay crush would destroy him from the inside out. 

So he throws himself into bed and makes a noise of acknowledgement. 

“You two were gone for a while, nothing happened in that bathroom did it?”

Akira sighs, “He just threw up. And I uh...helped? I guess.”

“How sweet,” Ann coos, “Taking care of your boyfriend already!”

“What was I supposed to do? Ignore him while he got sick?”

There’s a moment of very deliberate silence. Akira can  _ feel  _ Ann’s excitement before it clicks. 

“We’re not dating!” He denies vehemently, and the moment the words are out his mouth Ann is laughing at him. “We’re  _ not.” _

“You might as well be.”

“What about you and Shiho? You two can’t be just friends.” Akira refuses to be the only gay suffering tonight.

“Oh well, we tried the whole dating thing….didn’t really work out,” Ann says in a calm voice of someone with old wounds already healed over. Akira doesn’t know what to say. “It’s fine,” Ann adds with a laugh. “It was a while ago, y’know? We just found out we work better as friends. But luckily for you, this means I have experience! I’ll be your personal matchmaker!”

Akira can’t help but smile, “Thanks Ann. What would I do without you?”

“Be gay and desperate on your own.”

“I’m not desperate!”

Before Ann can shoot off a rebuttal, Akira’s phone buzzes against his face. He pulls it away for a moment to see there’s a new message in the group chat. 

 

**Ryuji:** the palace is a great place to get ripped!

 

Attached is a picture of Ryuji flexing in the mirror, sleeves rolled up and wide grin on his face. Akira’s poor, gay heart lurches in his chest and he nearly topples to the floor in shock. 

Hastily, Akira brings the phone back to his ear, “This is the best day of my life.”

Ann makes a quizzical noise, then there’s a pause as she checks the group chat herself. “See what I mean? Gay and desperate.”

“I’m never desperate,” Akira says confidently. Then goes to screenshot the picture of Ryuji. He’ll treasure it forever.   
  
  


 

**5/10**

  
  
  


Tuesday before exams Akira finds himself sitting in Leblanc with absolutely nothing to do. Scratch that. He has more than enough textbooks, workbooks, and practice tests that he  _ could  _ work on, but the motivation to actually do any studying? Non-existent. 

So he sits and flips through a few books idly ignoring the pointed looks Morgana is giving him from where he sits on the table. 

“Is it really alright for you to sit here and not study? I was listening when Kawakami said exams are coming up.”

“Maybe I’m a genius, and I don’t need to study,” Akira counters. 

Morgana doesn’t even dignify that with a response. 

“Rude. I’m smart enough not to  _ fail.  _ I was always in the top 20% at my last school,” Akira sits back, chin tilted haughtily. 

“It’s not hard to be top of the class in a class of 50 people,” Morgana scoffs, and just like that the wind is ripped right out Akira’s sails. 

“It was a class of 72 not 50,” Akira pouts, but gets the point. With an exaggerated sigh he reaches for the nearest book. Japanese History. Great. He gets about three pages into the struggles of Yoshitsune when like a beacon of deliverance, his phone buzzes. 

The relief of a distraction morphs into a very different emotion when Akira sees who’s messaged him. Unconsciously, he brushes crumbs off of his shirt as if Ryuji can see them through the messaging app. 

 

**Ryuji:** exams are coming up soon…..

 

**Akira:** Tomorrow actually

 

**Ryuji:** ……

**Ryuji:** ……

 

**Akira:** Ryuji…..please tell me you knew that

 

**Ryuji:** ….i knew that

**Ryuji:** you’re not…..getting a jump on studying without me right? RIGHT?

 

**Akira:** Does opening a book count as studying? Bc that’s about all I’ve done. 

 

**Ryuji:** well if we’re in the same boat wanna do it together? i’m in big trouble. 

 

Akira nearly hurts himself in his haste to accept. 

 

**Akira:** I’m in

 

**Ryuji:** thanKS DUDE! 

**Ryuji:** meet u @ the diner in shibuya in 30!

 

Immediately Akira’s slipping out the booth to throw all of his stuff into his bag. Morgana squints at him, “Where are you going now?”

“Ryuji asked me to help him study,” Akira says, tone laced with forced casualness. 

Morgana whines, “So I have to deal with you two flirting on a date? Spare me.”

“I-it’s not a date. Just studying. And you don’t  _ have  _ to come.” But Morgana’s already hopping onto Akira’s shoulder. 

“I have to go. Who else is going keep you idiots focused on exams instead of each other?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Morgana snickers. 

  
  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  


Ryuji wasn’t joking, he does need a lot of help. Not that he’s academically challenged per se, but it’s obvious as Akira’s slides into the opposite booth, and pulls out his notes that Ryuji hasn’t been paying as much attention as he should in class. 

But Akira’s patient, and after a while they get in the groove and not even an hour later, Ryuji’s handling math problems on his own, leaving Akira to his own devices. 

He  _ should  _ be taking advantage of the cozy, intimate atmosphere to study something, but there’s one thought that’s commandeering all of his attention: this feels like a date. Akira can’t tell if it’s his overactive imagination or not but it does. 

From the moment Ryuji glanced up from where he was hunched over booth’s table, to flash Akira a mega-watt smile it felt more like a relaxed date than a hasty study group. 

“Remember,” Morgana had mocked in a parody of Akira’s earlier protests, “This is not a date.”

“I should’ve left you at home,” Akira mumbled, trying not to blush as he walked over. 

Thankfully, Morgana’s been silent for a while, opting to man the calculator instead and  _ mind his own business.  _ Since homework is a lost cause at the moment, Akira discreetly cheeks Ryuji out. The blonde’s concentrating hard on a problem, and Akira has to hide a smile as Ryuji makes faces to himself. Akira drops his eyes to Ryuji’s hands where one is curled tightly around his pencil. His thoughts are beginning to drift into a dangerous domestic, hand-holding territory. 

“Huh. I’m startin’ to get the hang of this,” Ryuji mutters to himself, and Akira is happy for a distraction from the distraction. “So I just do the same thing for this one too? You must be a genius man, if you can help me understand this stuff.”

“Aww, you’re making me blush,” Akira retorts, tone light as to not let on how pleased the praise makes him feel.

Ryuji grins at him openly before returning to his work. “Wait, this ain’t right. Damn, did I mess something up?”

“Here let me see.” Akira leans across the table, trying in vain to decipher the problems upside down. Math is hard enough right side up, and when Ryuji notices Akira’s struggle, he simply spins the notebook around and sliding it across the table. 

Before Akira can even question him, Ryuji’s out of the booth to clamber in next to Akira, scooting in close. “This better?” Ryuji aks. 

“Uh...yes?” And Akira curses himself because it sounds more like a question than anything else. Their thighs are touching, just barely under the table, and the tiny moment of contact sends a pleasant shiver through him. So it takes a while of staring without really comprehending, to understand where Ryuji went wrong. “Ahh, caught your mistake riiight here.” He points to an unfactored variable, and instantly Ryuji’s face lights up in admiration. 

“From now on you’re my permanent study partner, got it? You’re freakin’ amazing dude!” With a grin, Ryuji bumps their shoulders together, amicably. “Hey, I’m gonna go get a refill. Solvin’ that one problem got me all pumped up! Oh! I’ll get you something too. Dr. Salt Neo?”

Hastily, Akira nods, hoping to whatever powers above that Ryuji doesn’t comment on the flush he  _ knows  _ is spreading across his face. Apparently he doesn’t because without another word Ryuji’s out of the booth, heading towards the drinks. 

Akira watches him walk away wistfully. “You two are so gross I can’t take it,” Morgana groans. 

“How can you be so mean to the person who feeds you?”

“Last time I checked it was Boss who was feeding me, and I’m always nice to him.”

Because Akira is a good person, he chooses to refrain from mentioning the time Morgana had, almost mindlessly, knocked a container of imported coffee beans off the counter onto the floor. 

He turns his attention back to Ryuji who is now talking to an older woman, fresh drinks in hand. Akira thinks nothing of it until the woman gestures towards the general area of the table as she says  _ something  _ that makes Ryuji flush enough for Akira to see across the diner. 

The woman departs with a smile and a good-natured pat on Ryuji’s arm. The blonde offers her a shaky smile before hurrying back to a very curious Akira. 

“Did you know that lady? She seemed awfully friendly with you.” To Akira’s surprise, Ryuji flushes harder and looks away, busying himself with the drinks. 

“Ah no I didn’t  _ know  _ her. She just….” Hesitantly, Ryuji glances up to meet Akira’s eyes, “She just thought it was nice to see such a cute c-couple looking so happy together.” 

_ Oh.  _

Now even strangers think they’re dating. 

Morgana outright laughs. Akira can feel the tips of his ears go hot, and he has to duck his head to hide the goofy grin threatening to split his face in two. When he hazards a glance back up at Ryuji, he finds there’s an equally flustered, equally goofy smile to match his own. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit? didn't realize it's been so long but here we are with a lot more pining and my fave brotp......ann and akira. i decided to try and focus on friendships in the phantom thieves as well! ann is a big gay and fell in love w her best friend so yeah her and akira get along well. recently i just finished my second playthrough of p5 so my ideas are a lot more concrete (and hopefully chapters will come faster) i cant believe its 5 am.........


	4. Les Mains Errant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> regularly scheduled flirting continues and gay truths are revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's chapter is brought to you by cool dad sojiro, more instigation via ann, and blessings from the very benevolent gay gods

**5/14**

 

Akira’s muttering English vocabulary to himself as he waits for the train. He hopes that at least  _ some  _ of it will stick in his head before his final exam, when a familiar hand is tugging on his headphone cord to get his attention. 

“Mornin’!” Ryuji greets him happily, before yawning widely, “We’ve been runnin’ into each other a lot in the mornings lately, huh?”

“Seems like it,” Akira says, pretending it’s the first time he’s noticed that all of this week since their date (not that it was a date date) they’ve meet each other on the platform to Shujin. 

“You’re not stalking Akira, are you?” Morgana asks suspiciously. “Just because the two of you went on  _ one  _ date that doesn’t give you the right to stalk him.”

Ryuji flushes in a mixture of anger and embarrassment, “I ain’t stalking anyone, you damn cat!”

Morgana makes a noise of triumph, climbing up onto Akira’s shoulder for dramatic effect, “But you didn’t deny that it was a date last week!”

“T-that’s--well,” Ryuji stammers. 

“ _ Morgana!”  _ Akira hisses, wishing not for the first time that Morgana were just a plain, normal cat that let him play with his paws, and  _ didn’t  _ say the worst things at the worst time. 

“What?” Morgana climbs back into his bag, “I’m doing you a favor.” 

Akira ignores him. What he can’t ignore is that technically Ryuji hasn’t denied that their outing was a date. And that. That’s a big thing. Too big of a thing to think about when he has another final in another 30 minutes. Time to say something witty and clear the air.

“It’s okay, Sakamoto-kun,” Akira lays a good natured hand on Ryuji’s shoulder, trying not to laugh when Ryui makes a face at the use of his last name, “I know you’d never stalk me, I mean no matter how you hid I’d be able to see you a mile away with that hair.”

Akira watches, enamoured, as Ryuji attempts to shoot him an offended look despite the laughs threatening to bubble up. Playfully, Ryuji pokes Akira in the ribs, but it tickles more than anything else. Akira jumps back with a less than dignified noise, making Ryuji finally give in and crack a smile. 

“Even this early in the morning you two are gross,” Morgana complains, but he perks up suddenly, “Oh! Good morning Lady Ann!”

“Mornin’”, Ann yawns, rubbing her eyes as she walks up to them. 

Ryuji seems happy to see another tired face,“Yo, look who else is yawnin’.”

“I figured since it was the last day of exams, I’d pull one last all-nighter before the finish line…” Ann trails off and Akira shakes his head ruefully. 

“You know, cramming everything the night before won’t help the tests you’ve  _ already  _ taken,” Akira states. 

Ann visibly bristles. “Hey! I study plenty! And my grades are fine!”

Ryuji has the audacity to squint at Ann skeptically, “Is fine another word for ‘barely passing’?” Akira stifles a snort behind his hand, and Ann is suddenly tired in a way that has nothing to do with late night cramming. 

“Last time I checked, Ryuji,” Ann starts with an overly sweet smile, “ _ My  _ score was still higher than yours.”

“Impressive Lady Ann,” Morgana purrs, “You’re completely different from this stupid monkey I know.” He’s obviously trying to rile up Ryuji, and unsurprisingly, he rises to the bait. 

“Don’t give me that. Your brain’s tiny compared to mine,” Ryuji growls, glaring. 

Ann and Akira sigh in unison. Here they go again.

“Size means nothing if there’s nothing in it,” Morgana quips. 

Akira watches, a bit concerned for the future of the Phantom Thieves as Morgana effortlessly pushes Ryuji’s buttons. Before finals at the station is probably one of the worst places for either one of them to throw a scene, so Akira nudges Ryuji in the ribs with a smile. “I dunno, size can be pretty important in certain situations.”

Instantly, the tension in the air dissipates as Ryuji revels in the specific kind of glee that comes from a dick-joke-- no matter how crude. 

Ann is anything but impressed. “Ugh, can we talk about something else? You’re gonna make me forget everything I memorized, and do you know just how many quadratic equations I struggled through….” 

Akira blinks at her, genuinely confused, “Oh, you actually studied?”

“Are you picking a fight!?”

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


Morgana has been bothered by Kitagawa's proposal all day. 

Akira has been a hair's breadth away from meeting his end at the wrong side of a Shadow's sword, and even then Morgana had kept a cool visage. But one encounter with the, admittedly eccentric, artist and Morgana’s practically balding. 

When they meet up near the train platforms after school, Akira’s not surprised when Morgana climbs up on his shoulder to speak. “So what’re we going to do about this Yusuke guy? I still don’t trust him.”

“Yeah,”Ann purses her lips in thought, “He was a bit…” 

“Pervy?” Ryuji supplies. 

“Forward?” Akira adds. 

“ _ Forward.  _ That’s the word. But he gave us these tickets for the museum, we may as well use them.”

Morgana looks scandalized, “Don’t tell me it was love at first sight for you?”

“Hell no!” Ann snaps, and Morgana makes a relieved noise under his friend. 

Akira adjusts his glasses with a smile just barely short of shit-eating, “From what I’ve gathered Ann prefers the...less masculine types.”

Ann smiles sweetly, a little  _ too  _ sweetly actually, instantly a pang of fear runs through Akira’s body. “And based off who  _ you  _ like it’s obvious what  _ your  _ taste’s like.”

“What! Dude! You have a crush on someone?” Ryuji nearly knocks Akira to the floor, he rushes at him so quickly, “I thought we were close, man! C’mon you can tell me who it is.” The blonde’s fixing Akira with such a kicked-puppy look, he has half the mind to blurt out  _ It’s you. I like you, you idiot  _ but several things, including the tiny bit of common sense he has, stops him. 

“T-that was a joke!” Akira lies, he looks to Ann pleadingly, desperate even, “Wasn’t it!”

“Yeah it was a joke,” Ann says totally unconvincingly. “But I was serious about seeing the exhibit. I saw a special on Madarame’s art and his art’s pretty nice! Besides this the only lead we’ve got to go on right now.”

“The request on the Phansite mentioned a Madarame too, huh?” Ryuji makes a face, deep in thought. 

“I’m curious about it myself,” Akira mumbles, “It’s unlikely this is all a coincidence.” 

“I guess we don’t have a choice,” Morgana sighs, “I won’t let the Phantom Thieves be a one-hit wonder! We have to investigate every lead we get.”

“Good! Now that everything’s all settled, we’ll meet at the museum together tomorrow!” 

“Wait, wait, wait. We ain’t say we were going with you!” Ryuji’s shoulders slump as he whines, “I don’t wanna go to some stuffy museum.”

“So you just want me to go alone? What’s wrong with appreciating some fine arts for once?”

“Why the hell would I care about somethin’ like that?”

“Ryuji’s definition of fine art is manga,” Akira says matter-of-factly, and when Ryuji makes a face at him he bats his eyelashes innocently. 

“I suggest we all go together!” Morgana says, voice stern. 

Ryuji scowls,“You just want to watch over Ann the whole time.”

“He’s got a point though. It’s best if we all went in a group.” At Akira’s words Ryuji deflates some so Akira clasps his hands under his chin, the picture of guileless charm, “C’mon, Ryuji, do it for me?”

The begging is super effective. Ryuji flushes bright red, all earlier traces of reluctance long gone as he stutters out a “F-fine. I’ll go. But just for you!”

And it won’t be the last time Ryuji finds himself powerless to Akira’s wishes. 

  
  
  


**5/17**

  
  


Call him idealistic but Akira expected Kitagawa-kun to be a lot more...talkative? He’d hoped Kitagawa would let his guard down, possibly open up in the face of their charm….well...Ann’s charm, and give them some intel on Madarame. 

What happens is probably the exact opposite. 

“I thought it would just be you coming, Takamaki-san,” Yusuke frowns at Ryuji and Akira as they make themselves comfortable in a pair of dingy chairs at the side of the room. 

Akira, to his credit, attempts to look as non-threatening and mild mannered as possible. Next to him, Ryuji is doing nothing of the sort. His arms are folded across his chest, shoulders squared all in an attempt to make himself seem bigger, and the look on his face couldn’t scream more  _ I don’t trust you not even in the slightest degree  _ even if he yelled it from the rooftops. 

From where she stands in the middle of the room, Ann glances between the three of them with a bit of trepidation. Her smile’s strained when turns to Yusuke, “Wouldn’t you be nervous too with just the both of us?”

Yusuke gives her a sympathetic look, turning away from from Ryuji and Akira with a final distrustful glance. He then sets to giving Ann a few directions on how to pose, before taking hold of his paintbrush. 

That was thirty minutes ago, and the one thing Akira can say about Yusuke is that he’s  _ focused.  _ His eyes haven’t left his canvas other than to glance to and fro Ann’s figure not once. Even a few calls of his name rendered no results; it’s almost like he’s in a trance. 

Akira watches as Yusuke blends colors together, swiping them across the canvas with a sort of fervor almost unexpected from Kitagawa’s stoic facade. It’s interesting in a modern Bob Ross kind of way, but apparently Akira’s the only one that thinks so because Ryuji’s jaw comes colliding into his shoulder as the blonde loses his battle to sleep. 

“Ow,” Ryuji whines, jerking upright to massage his sore cheek, “Your shoulders are too bony.”

“Well I’ll be sure to issue the complaint to my bones then,” Akira replies cheekily

Ryuji makes a face at him. “Ugh, dude aren’t you bored? We’ve been sitting here for like an hour and  _ nothing!” _

“Stop complaining!” Morgana chastises, despite sounding suspiciously lethargic, “Sometimes in our line of work intel isn’t always easy to find.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, but c’mon he hasn’t said a word this whole time.” Slowly, as to not make too much noise, Ryuji stands from his chair to creep closer and closer to where Kitagawa-kun’s painting. Ryuji waves a hand near Kitagawa’s face but still there’s no reaction. “See? It’s like he’s in a whole different world or somethin’? Weird, huh?”

“You’re gonna look like the weird one if Kitagawa catches you waving your arms in his face,” Ann points out mildly. 

Ryuji makes a dismissive noise, “As if he’d notice anything right now.” But still the blonde settles back into his chair with a sigh. “But I’m so freakin’ BORED. C’mon dude, entertain me or somethin’.”

“Whaddya want me to do?” Akira asks impassively, “Run around and dance a choreographed routine?”

“You can do that?” 

There’s a pause.“...No.”

From across the room there’s the sound of Ann facepalming. Morgana looks like he wishes he could do the same. 

“But really, this guy’s concentration is amazing. You know how much better I’d be at cramming if I had this kind of power,” Akira strokes his chin thoughtfully.

“You’d also be three times weirder,” Ryuji grumbles, “And I don’t think you can afford to do that.”

“What?” Akira places a hand to his heart in exaggerated offense, “I’m perfectly normal.” He looks up to find Ryuji blinking at him disbelievingly, even Morgana has his head poked out of the bag to stare at Akira. It seems that the only time the two of them can be on the same accord is when it comes dragging someone else. 

Ryuji places a hand on the other’s shoulder, “I’m sorry dude, but you’re hella weird. You eat popcorn with chopsticks.”

“It’s to keep my hands clean!”

Suddenly, there’s the sound of a throat being cleared, and the two of them turn to find Kitagawa glaring at them from over his shoulder. Like scolded children, Ryuji and Akira snap to attention, sitting up ramrod straight. 

“My bad?” Akira offers. Without another word, Yusuke turns back to his painting. Akira can practically watch the light leave his eyes. 

Akira’s content to follow suit and disassociate for however much longer this’ll take when something heavy and warm settles against his side. He startles hard when he realizes that it’s  _ Ryuji.  _

“Just for the record,” Ryuji whispers casually, as he wiggles around making himself comfortable against Akira’s shoulder, “You’re still weird.” Akira makes some kind of startled noise, one part out of personal offense, and the other out of well…..gay shock, but Ryuji continues on nonplussed. “But it’s okay. I like your kind of weird.”

  
  
  


**5/18**

  
  
  
  


“We’re gettin’ a ‘lil too good at takin’ down Shadows,” Ryuji brags as the lot of them corral into the first safe room of the day “Madarame’s Treasure’ll be ours in no time!” He slings an affectionate arm around Akira’s shoulders. The movement is--as he’s come to expect from Ryuji-- remarkably casual, and Akira finds himself relaxing into the touch without hesitation. 

Morgana's pouring over the map, only sparing them a brief, disgusted glance before going back to planning their next move. Ann watches with quiet amusement as Ryuji presses close to Akira while they peer at the map themselves. The Metaverse isn't the time nor place for flirting, but Ann still finds it cute. Just a little. 

She may be the only one who thinks that way; Morgana continues to look uncomfortable with a dash of annoyance, not unlike a little kid watching their parents get all lovey dovey.

They all take advantage of the rest, using whatever recovery items needed, and plotting their next course of action. There’s also a lot of furtive glances and subtle touches courtesy of Ryuji and Akira. Most of which don’t go unnoticed by Ann (how could she not notice, they couldn’t be anymore blatant about it if they tried). 

And of course she can’t help but to bring it up. 

As they’re leaving the safe room, heading further into the museum, Ann walks briskly to fall in step with Akira. “So,” she says with grin so mischievous Akira has to wonder how  _ anyone  _ at Shujin could think Ann was cool or reserved, “What was with all of that just now?”

“All of what?” Akira asks distractedly as he fusses with his gloves. 

“The  _ flirting,”  _ Ann sighs.

“Flirting?” He parrots, pausing to duck behind a low wall, crawling past an on guard Shadow, “Who have I been flirting with?”

Ann deftly follows behind, not missing a beat. “Morgana,” she deadpans. “Of course I mean Ryuji who else is there? You two were all over each other. There was no way you couldn’t have noticed!”

Embarrassed, Akira looks over his shoulder to ensure the person in question hasn't heard Ann's accusation. From the looks of it Ryuji hasn't heard a thing--in fact he appears to be arguing with Morgana again if the dynamic hand gestures are anything to go by. 

With the threat of being overheard gone, Akira can get back to the problem at hand. “We weren't flirting. You're just reading too into things. Like usual.”

“Sure I am. I bet you 2000 yen I'm right.”

“A bet?” Akira scoffs, but his eyes gleam nonetheless. A Phantom Thief can't resist a challenge after all. “How could you even prove that you're right?”

“Don't worry about that,” Ann grins, “You'll see.”

Akira shoots her a suspicious glance before nodding. “You're on.” Just then a Shadow rounds the corner, landing right in their sights. Akira darts out from his hiding spot to leap on the shadow's shoulders, yanking off its mask. “Can't wait to spend that 2000 yen!” He yells down. 

In retrospect the confidence just might be his downfall. 

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  


Ryuji’s hand is on his ass. Well not really. It’s more of his lower back, and it’s more a steadying hand for balance more than anything. But still it’s there and overall it’s very, very distracting. Akira hadn’t even noticed it at first, too caught up in pressing himself tight against the wall to get the jump on a Shadow. 

Sometimes fighting in the Metaverse is hard. Being attacked by hordes of Shadows while avoiding expulsion and now legal action isn't easy by any means. 

_ But this.  _ Trying to keep his composure even as warm radiates from where Ryuji’s hand presses firm and unyielding, is probably the hardest thing he’s had to do yet. No pun intended. 

Ann and Morgana are hiding against an opposite wall, and when Akira catches Ann’s eye she stares at him with a pointed look. For the first time that day, but not the last, Akira wishes he had never made that bet. 

“He has no evidence that Ann can read his mind, but the second he has that thought Ann locks eyes with him and smirks. 

God is dead and a bet for 2000 yen killed them. 

Luck hasn’t  _ completely  _ abandoned him it seems, because the Shadow patrolling the area turns back around a corner giving them the perfect opportunity to move on. Quick on his feet, Akira takes off towards the door, and no he doesn’t miss the warm weight of Ryuji’s hand on his back, except he totally does. 

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  


Akira has a vague feeling of anxiety as they approach the crawl space hidden away above a bunch of boxes, but he chalks it up to his brain remembering that one part of Outlast with the vents and the doctor. 

He shudders. 

“Can we actually fit through here?” Akira mumbles, “Morgana may be out of luck.”

“I heard that!” Morgana yells where he’s still trapped in the field of lasers. 

Ann steps forward to squint up at the vent, “I think we should be able to make it. If anyone gets stuck I can always Agi you and push you forward!”

“I’d rather just die in the vent,” Ryuji says under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Ryuji amends quickly, he takes hold of Akira’s shoulders to turn him towards the crawl space. “Alright let’s get going! Leader you go first, and I’ll be right behind you!”

“Spiders don’t exist in the Metaverse, right?” Akira worries as he lifts himself into the crawl space. 

“Crawl fast so we don’t have to find out,” Ann’s about to follow behind Ryuji but she pauses, eyes serious. “ _ Don’t  _ look back,” she orders. 

“I aint!” Ryuji protests immediately. 

“Oh you prefer the view in front of you?”

Akira’s already shimmying his way forward, so it takes an almost embarrassing long time for him to process the conversation. It takes him an even longer amount of time for it to dawn on him that  _ he’s  _ the probably the view. 

Flustered he crawls faster just as Ryuji goes “S-shut up.” Akira doesn’t think he’s ever been more aware of the movement of his hips in his whole entire life. Still he crawls on. 

It is not a particularly pleasant affair in that crawl space. Akira keeps bumping his head against the top part, both Ann and Ryuji have been complaining about how dusty it is for the past minute, and at one point the crawl space makes a sharp ninety degree turn. Maneuvering through turns out to be something of a struggle, but around the corner they see the light. Literally. 

“...the alert about intruders?”

“..thieves sneaking around here.”

At the sound of voices, Akira pauses just before the opening to what appears to be the control room. It sounds like an important conversation is in the process; now he’s just gotta get a bit closer to hear. 

“Hey--wha!?” Ryuji’s caught off guard as Akira peeks his upper half out of the crawl space to get a better listen. The shadows on guard are preparing to leave, thankfully with their backs turned. 

“I got a call telling me to change the password just in case,” the first Shadow says. Instantly Akira’s eyes light up and he leans forward more and more to catch what’s being said. On instinct, Ryuji grabs a fistful of Akira’s ridiculously flashy jacket, because it looks like at any moment Akira’s gonna fall. 

He does actually fall. Just as he gets the password. The Shadows leave with a whoosh of the sliding door, and Akira loses his shaky balance, tumbling down the couple of feet to the floor. Problem is Ryuji’s still got a hold of his jacket, and goes falling down with him. 

Not just  _ with _ him. But practically on top of him. 

The combination of their weight makes a thud that’s more than just a little noticeable. Through the door Akira can make out the sound of one of the Shadows going, “Hm? Did you hear something just now?”

Both Ryuji and Akira hold their breath where they lay in a tangled heap. Ryuji’s face is uncomfortably close. Uncomfortable in the sense that Akira’s tempted to reach up and poke one of the faint sun freckled spots on Ryuji's cheek just peeping out from underneath his mask. 

Thankfully, Akira's hand is trapped underneath the bulk of Ryuji's weight. Unfortunately this means the two of them are pressed together chest to chest and face to face. 

Even more unfortunate, the Shadows are  _ still  _ lingering by the door. Akira can make out the silhouette of a guard through the semi opaque window glancing to and fro in search of the source of the noise. 

“Hm...I thought I heard something. Must be my imagination,” the Shadow grumbles, leaving to patrol somewhere else. 

Akira sighs in relief. That’s one problem solved. The other seems to be in no hurry to move off of him. 

“You wanna get off now?” Akira asks, tone pointedly neutral, “I’m kinda losing feeling in my arm.”

“I dunno,” Ryuji teases, “You’re kinda comfortable.” If anything he relaxes more on top of Akira, even leaning forward as if to nuzzle into the other’s neck

Akira laughs at the display despite the erratic thumping of his heart beneath his ribs. In a moment of extreme bravery or maybe temporary insanity, Akira hears himself say, “When you joke around like that makes it sound like you're flirting with me.”

Ryuji doesn't flush in distress or stutter an excuse. Instead he grins, flashing sharp canines, and making direct eye contact with Akira, “Well, maybe l am. You got a problem with that?”

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  


Akira slides into LeBlanc later that evening 2000 yen lighter and with a throbbing bruise carefully hidden beneath his bangs. The missing yen is courtesy Ann, because let’s face it: a boy sprawled on top of you and answering with a  _ Well, maybe I am  _ when you ask if he’s flirting with you wins the bet. Hands down. 

The bruise….. _ that _ came from the untimely collision of Akira’s forehead with the hard surface of a telephone pole he ran into while replaying  _ maybe I am  _ over and over in his head instead of focusing on where his feet were taking him. 

Morgana’s leaping out of Akira’s bag onto his favorite chair at the bar before the bell over the door is even done chiming. It could be because Akira’s been floating around like a dopey idiot or because he totally missed  _ all  _ of Morgana’s explanation on the barricade in Madarame’s Palace. 

“Oh, you’re back,” Sojiro gives Akira an ambivalent nod over the glass he’s cleaning then leaves him be to indulge in whatever romantic daydreams his brain decides to manifest. 

Akira goes upstairs, flips through all three of the available channels before losing interest. He organizes his books in alphabetical order, then lies face down in his bed for what feels like an eternity, but in reality only takes about an hour. 

Desperate for something to do he ambles back downstairs. Sojiro’s still cleaning up the shop, now taking inventory of all the different kinds of coffee brews. He doesn’t seem too surprised to find Akira back downstairs, just continues what he’s doing as the younger restlessly fidgets in a booth. 

“If you’re up for it,” Sojiro begins, blessedly breaking the silence in the room, “Why don’t you learn how to work here…”

Akira can’t agree fast enough. 

Sojiro takes him through the basics of coffee making, walking him through the steps of grinding beans and brewing. It’s nice to have something to do, taking his mind off of….well…. _ earlier.  _

“The key is to be attentive. Get the balance wrong and the flavor profile will be all wrong,” Sojiro explains, remarkably patient for someone so keen on threatening Akira out on the streets at the faintest whiff of trouble.

“You're not charging me per cup, are you?” Akira jokes. He turns from the counter to eye the shelves of coffee grounds suspiciously. “I've seen the labels on some of these, and l know Colombian imports can't be cheap.” 

“Just take my hospitality, you punk,” Sojiro even cracks a smile. “If you have time to ask questions you have the time to learn about coffee types. And the ladies love a man who knows how to make a good cup of coffee, this is a good deal for you.”

“I'd rather have the boys love me if we're being honest,” Akira retorts on instinct. 

The moment the words leave his mouth he freezes. Leave it to him to come out just to make a joke. After a moment of silence that stretches on just a  _ bit  _ too long Akira turns stiffly to peek at Sojiro--both too afraid to look for his reaction, but too uncomfortable to pretend nothing happened. 

Sojiro isn’t shocked, or disgusted, or even taken back in the slightest. There’s a smug grin curving his mouth--the one that gives Akira more than just a sneaking suspicion that the old man used to be quite the ladies man in his heyday. 

“So you--how do the kids say it these days? You swing that way, eh?”

Akira’s mortified but nods anyway, “Yeah..? How? How do you even know that saying?”

“Hey, an old man like me can still keep up with the times,” Sojiro grins, pleased. “I don’t know what punks nowadays like, but knowing how to make a good cup of coffee won’t hurt. Just stay out of trouble, and no collateral damage of my shop or I won’t hesitate to throw you out, got it?”

It’s the same threat as usual, but this time’s Akira’s gotten to see a different side of Sojiro. One that’s a lot cooler than expected.  “Got it,” he agrees with a smile. 

  
  
  


**5/19**

  
  
  


Yet again Akira finds himself trusting the knowledge of a talking cat. 

He and Ryuji stroll up to the blockade, and as they take in all the crackling red lasers a heavy sense of trepidation settles on them. 

“Are they seriously gonna be able to pull this off…?” Ryuji looks from the lasers to the door back to the lasers again. “I know Ann said she’ll ‘seduce him with her acting’ or something, but don’t you think this is outta their league?”

Akira thinks back to the time Ann tried to “act” her way out of trouble. “They'll be fine,” he says not fully convinced himself. “I have faith in them.”

“You're in another league, man,” Ryuji scuffs the ground with his foot, “So what're we supposed to do while we wait?”

“I dunno? Talk?”

Ryuji laughs, a charming, dry laugh, “Okay? About what?”

“Hmmm,” Akira juts his bottom lip out in thought, “How'd you do on your exams?”

“I don't wanna talk about it…” Ryuji slumps over in defeat for a moment before perking right back up. “Oh! Wait I actually moved up 6 ranks! My homeroom teacher nearly fainted when she gave the grades back! You're amazing dude!”

A wave of pride rushes over Akira and he can't help but to bump his arm into Ryuji's side amicably, “That's good to hear. Next time I might have to charge you for my services.”

“Lame! What happened to discounts for friends, huh?” Akira rocks back on his heels innocently, batting his eyelashes. Ryuji can't seem to stay mock-offended, opting instead to change the subject. 

“Y’know there's something I've been meaning to ask you...” the blonde ventures. 

Akira makes a noise of acknowledgement, curious what it could be to require Ryuji's current level of severity. 

“What kind of girls do you like?”

It takes a conscious amount of effort to control his flinch, but Akira manages to break eye contact to follow the spiraling designs on the large protected in a way that is nothing but natural. 

He contemplates lying: he's done it before--just named a random girl or quality to blend in. Or possibly he could not answer at all. But Akira thinks about the surprising amount of understanding Sojiro had shown him, and how Ann didn't even bat an eyelash when he told her. 

Besides, they're friends, and Akira would like to be as transparent as possible. (And not to mention this ridiculous crush won’t go  _ anywhere  _ if he never finds out if Ryuji swings that way.) Before Akira can overthink any more and make his head explode he very calmly and cooly confesses.  

“I'm actually not that interested in girls...I'm gay,” Akira says too nervous to make eye contact, instead hyper fixating on the bright red tied around Ryuji’s neck. 

“What!?” Ryuji yells immediately. Akira flinches back on instinct, and before he knows it Ryuji’s pulling him close so they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier!? I wouldn’t have asked you your opinion on all those girls if I had known! What the hell, man?”

Akira blinks as Ryuji’s words sink in before laughing a bit in relief. Leave it to Ryuji to be more bothered about possibly offending Akira than anything else.That thought makes something warm flutter in his chest. 

“You really have nothing to apologize for,” Akira insists, “I can still appreciate a pretty girl without wanting to date her.”

Ryuji makes a displeased face but unballs his fists from the collar of Akira’s coat. “It still ain’t right, dude. So...to be fair...what kinda guys are you into?”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re just using this as an opportunity to find out what my type is?”

“C’mon, don’t be like that!” Ryuji jostles Akira’s shoulder playfully, but doesn’t deny that’s what he’s after. “I’ll even narrow it down for ya. How about Yusuke? He your type?”

Akira makes a thoughtful noise, drawing it out on purpose, taking pleasure in Ryuji’s obvious impatience. “Hmm, kinda. He’s tall. And I tend to like guys taller than me.” As he says that Ryuji stands up a bit straighter as if to emphasize his few centimeters of height over Akira. 

“That’s all you look for?” Ryuji probes, “Height?”

“No--I’m not  _ that  _ shallow. I’m more swayed by personality honestly. I like guys with a sense of humor.”

“I see...” Ryuji says seriously, almost like he were taking notes in his head, “So you’re saying Yusuke’s too weird for you?”

Akira laughs, “I don’t know him well enough to know that.”

“What about me?”

“You?” Akira turns shocked, to find Ryuji looking just as surprised, as if he didn’t mean to blurt out his question. But he shows no signs of backing down. They’re interrupted by the sudden shutdown of the lasers--all of them. And then right before their eyes the blue door slowly slides open. 

Previous conversation apparently forgotten, Ryuji cheers, “They seriously did it!” The blonde flashes a sunny smile at Akira. 

“Told you they’d be able to do it,” Akira brags. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t act like you didn’t have any doubts. Now c’mon!”

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


Ryuji walks him home from the diner. This in itself isn’t totally unusual, they alternate who walks whom home most nights because unbenounced to most, Ryuji apparently has a chivalrous side and insists on seeing them all off to their train platform at least. 

Lately he’s even been walking Akira all the way to the front steps of LeBlanc, and when Akira argued that it was just inconveniencing Ryuji they settled on taking turns. This time (and for the past three times they’ve stayed out late now that Akira thinks about) Ryuji’s walking in stride with him through the darkened streets of Yongen. 

They talk about nothing really, and for a while at least Akira can pretend he’s living a normal life without constant threats of legal action and maiming at the hands of Shadows. It’s a pleasant end to a hectic day honestly. 

Just around the corner from LeBlanc, Ryuji pauses with an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression. Morgana, who had just finished recounting his “feats of heroism” as he worked to unlock Madarame’s door (although if Akira were being honest it sounded like Ann was doing most of the leg work), seems to infer  _ something  _ from the mood and hops out of the bag to head towards LeBlanc himself. 

Akira watches the cat pad away before turning back to Ryuji curiously, “What is it?”

“I...just…” he trails off with an unsure look, “I-I just wanted to says thanks for y’know trusting me enough to tell me you’re gay. It uhh means a lot and yeah..”

The sincerity of the message touches Akira in a way that has him itching to clutch at his chest like a sap. “Oh don’t mention it?” It comes out more like a question, and Akira winces at his own lack of composure, “I trust you so it’s no big deal.”

Without warning Ryuji tugs Akira closer with an arm around his shoulder. “One more thing,” Ryuji starts, a slow, soft grin spreading across his features. “I’m bi.”

And just like that Ryuji’s pulling away, turning back towards the station. Akira sputters some nonsense after him because this means they’re both--

Ryuji disappears into the backstreets with a wave and an enthusiastic goodbye, leaving Akira still standing lamely where Ryuji left him. 

It's really unbelievable. Maybe the gay gods  _ are  _ watching over him after all. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the idea of akira outing himself to sojiro bc of a joke and sojiro being cool with it made me laugh really hard and then it warmed my heart so i had to add it. this chapter was SO hard to write??? and its like 5k so hopefully that makes up for the 3 months it took for me to update. and if it doesnt you can come to my house and fight me to be productive. i'd encourage it. seriously.


	5. Le Soutien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ryuji and akira test the boundaries of what can and can't be considered platonic. ann is too patient. ryuji continues to be obvious. akira's subconscious goes a little haywire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have classes on wednesdays which is why im up at 4am updating this fic!

**5/20**

  
  


The next morning Akira wakes up and for approximately three seconds he can’t remember why there’s still a giddy, floating feeling in his stomach. Then it catches up with him and he has to suppress the urge to roll over into his pillows and scream in that peculiar mixture of elation and panic that comes standard with a crush.

But he restrains himself. Only because Morgana is currently snoozing on his chest, curled up in a ball and breathing so peacefully Akira can’t bear the thought of flinging him across the room with his antics. At least not yet. 

Akira lays back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s still too early to get up, the TV’s droning softly downstairs, and Sojiro silent as well--probably drinking his morning cup of coffee as he reads the paper. Sojiro’s gotten into the habit this past week of cranking up the volume of the TV higher and higher until Akira has no choice but to abandon hope of an extra few minutes of sleep. 

As of right now, the whole cafe is relatively quiet, leaving Akira to think. 

He  _ should  _ be thinking about the Metaverse. If they have the right gear to go back in. If he has the right personas. What he should do about Mishima’s (frankly concerning) need for prestige, and a dozen of other things. 

None of those things are what he’s actually spending his time mulling over. 

Totally against his will--which is a lie--his thoughts are drawn to Ryuji: the way his eyes slant at the corners when he smiles. The way the street lamps made the tips of his hair glow a bright yellow, like he was some kind of meat-loving angel. And the distracting glint of a smirk when he told Akira he was bi.

That moment will be forever ingrained in his memory, and he prays that the sudden intimacy won’t make anything weird today. Granted, Ryuji was comfortable enough with him weeks after meeting to continue a conversation as they were stood at the urinals, but still Akira worries. 

On cue Akira’s phone buzzes, shocking Morgana and sending him leaping into the air. Akira wedges a hand between his hip and the mattress to wiggle out his still buzzing phone from where it ended up as he slept. 

 

**Ryuji:** Mornin’!

**Ryuji:** oh shit you aren’t sleeping are you?

**Ryuji:** if you’re sleeping ignore this

 

**Akira:** …..How are you late to class all the time even though you get up this early?

 

**Ryuji:** hey! i haven’t been late in a week

 

**Akira:** Yeah only because you’ve been catching the train with me all week

 

**Ryuji:** you’re not cute at all dude

**Ryuji:** and here i was worried if we’re cool after yesterday

  
  


**Akira:** Of course we’re cool! 

**Akira:** Oh well, *I* don’t have a problem with anything….Do you?

 

**Ryuji:** course not dude!!!! you can tell me anything!

 

**Akira:** Same here. You can even talk to me about girls

**Akira:** But just so you know if you ask me how I feel about a girl from Shujin I’ll just be copy and pasting whatever Ann says about them.

 

**Ryuji:** ……...

 

**Akira:** So next time you bring up the girl from 2-B don’t be surprised when you get a three novel length texts full of waxing poetic about how nice her thighs are. You’ll know who it’s from

 

**Ryuji:** i hate both of you

 

**Akira:** No you don’t~~~

  
  
  


**5/21**

  
  
  


“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Ann whips around in her seat, eyes alight with a burning curiosity. It’s a testament to her impatience that she doesn’t even wait for the bulk of the students to leave the room before she’s beginning her interrogation. “What happened?”

A persistent smile threatens to break Akira’s poker face. He’s bursting at the seams to tell Ann the good news, but he still attempts to play it cool. “Why does something have to have happened for me to be happy?” he asks cooly, “Maybe I’m just happy.”

His acting was spot on, but Ann isn’t buying it. 

“Please,” she scoffs, pulling out her lunch and placing it on Akira’s desk haughtily, “These days there are only two things that could get you so happy. The first would be concerning the  _ thing.  _ But I would know if something happened there. The other would be related to your crush.”

“Do you want to know what happened or not?” Akira huffs, choosing to not discuss the validity of Ann’s claims. Partially because he’s just ready to let the cat out the bag, but mostly because Ann’s not wrong. 

“Yes! Tell me!” Ann wiggles her fingers excitedly and gives Akira her undivided attention. 

Leaning forward with a smile so wide it could put the sun to shame, Akira says, “Ryuji told me he’s bi.”

“He told you that?” Ann half-yells, causing more than just a few people to glance their way. “I knew it!” She cheers, throwing her hands up, nearly smacking Akira in the face as she celebrates. 

“You knew? How?”

“No one straight wears tank tops with low sleeves like that--and the spike bracelet. That’s  _ literally _ bi culture!”

Akira rolls his eyes at Ann’s logic, but the smile that started all of this still won’t go away. Ann watches him for a second before smiling herself. “You really are so happy,” she coos, “Could your crush on Ryuji get any bigger?”

“H-hey! Not so loud! People can hear you,” Akira hisses at her under his breath. He fights the urge to look around guiltily, because nothing gets people’s attention more than that obvious “hey we’re gossipping about something juicy here please please  _ please  _ don’t listen to us” look. 

Ann shares none of Akira’s caution. “What?” She blinks at him dryly, “It’s obvious--anyone can see it.”

“Not true!”

“Very true,” Ann bites off the head of a gummy bear (which seems to be the only thing she’s packed to eat) before she leans around Akira to address their classmate sitting behind them. “Isn’t that right, Naoki?” 

“It’s true,” Naoki confirms immediately, voice completely monotone. Akira whips around horrified that someone  _ has  _ been listening in on them, and when they make eye contact Naoki stares back at him impassively. He shrugs casually before taking up his chopsticks again. 

Still in somewhat of a panic, Akira turns back to Ann who just eats another gummy bear head with a face that says  _ I told you so.  _

Naoki, showing a level of pity his own friend of over a month isn’t keen on showing him, speaks again. “There’s nothing wrong with having a crush on the guy. It’s probably the least weird thing you have going on. I watched you craft lockpicks in class. Oh, and the  _ cat.” _

All at once Akira is uncomfortably aware that he owes Naoki big time for not spreading rumors around that Akira keeps a cat in his desk that he may or not appear to be having conversations with. 

“Thanks for...you know  _ not  _ telling everyone about the cat thing.”

“You’re welcome,” then for the first time in the whole conversation, Naoki smiles, “And good luck with Sakamoto-kun--it’d be nice if one gay around here could get a date.”

“Amen,” Ann chimes in, eating another gummy bear mournfully. “Akira, you and your obvious crush are our best bet.”

“It’s not obvious,” Akira disagrees without thinking. By now it’s some sort of Pavlovian response: Ann comments on his (totally subtle) crush, and Akira rebuffs it in order to maintain his sense of dignity. He opens his mouth to provide some kind of anecdotal evidence to plead his case, such as how he hasn’t compulsively checked his phone for a message from Ryuji as to  _ why  _ he wasn’t currently visiting Akira--and Ann--for the lunch break like he has everyday for the past two weeks.

Said lack of compulsive checking may have only been avoided bc Akira has his phone face up on his desk so that any incoming message would be obvious when it comes through, but no one has to know that. 

In the end, Akira doesn’t have the time to make his excellent point, because Ryuji himself comes striding into their classroom, hair making him stand out as usual. 

Ann watches amused as Akira instantly sits up straighter, running a hand through his hair to make himself “presentable”. Like she said. Completely obvious. 

“Yo!” Ryuji greets them, taking advantage of the nearly empty room to take the seat next to Akira. It’s routine, but something in Akira still tingles pleasantly everytime. 

“What took you so long?” Ann asks, because they have a routine too: Ann does all of the talking for the first few minutes of lunch while Akira quietly moons over Ryuji. 

In response Ryuji sighs, leaning over to prop his head on Akira’s shoulder. And to say the latter  _ beams  _ is a gross understatement. “Ugh, I got called in to talk to my homeroom teacher after break about my grades.”

“I thought your grades had  _ improved _ ,” Akira pouts, “Did you do better in English only to get worse somewhere else?”

“That is possible knowing Ryuji” Morgana laughs before meowing in protest when Ryuji shakes Akira’s desk in retaliation.

“I  _ did  _ do better,” he says. “But apparently my grades getting  _ better  _ was suspicious. She grilled me for minutes about who sold me the test answers--it was freakin’ annoying. ‘S not that unbelievable that I’ve been studying, right?”

Of course, Akira shakes his head vehemently, but at this point Akira would deny the sky’s blue if Ryuji asked him too quickly. Ann, ever the more rational one, purses her lips in thought. “I wouldn’t say it’s 100% unbelievable. It’s just kinda hard to believe that you of all people would start studying seriously all by yourself.”

“Huh? I haven’t been studying alone?”

Ann blinks at Ryuji confused, either disbelieving Ryuji has any other friends willing to tutor him, or unable to comprehend him actually  _ learning  _ from someone else. Honestly, he can’t decide which one’s potentially more offending. 

“Who’s been tutoring you?”

“Me?” Akira raises his hand and waves.

“You two have actually been studying?”

Akira turns to glance at Ryuji who shrugs, equally as perplexed as why that’s hard to believe. “Yeah?” Ryuji ventures. “What did you think we’ve been doing?”

“Being ga-- I mean being guys!” Ann blurts out, “You know, doing guy stuff and playing video games all the time.”She covers smoothly, but still Akira squints at her in distrust. Ryuji doesn’t seem to have noticed, or he’s just ignoring it. 

“I mean we do sometimes,” the blonde muses. “But most the times we end actually doing homework. He’s the best teacher I’ve ever had.”

At the praise, Akira positively  _ preens.  _ “And you’re the best student I’ve ever had,” he coos. Morgana makes some kind of disgusted noise from where he lounges in the desk, and by the look on Ann’s face she echoes those sentiments.

Ann twirls a strand of hair around her finger suddenly thoughtful, “Well it is possible a guy would get his act together and pull his grades up to impress someone he likes.” Innocently she cuts her eyes towards Ryuji while Akira struggles to clean up the mess he made from his inadvertent spit take. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryuji grumbles. From where Akira’s sitting he can see a faint red tint to Ryuji’s cheeks, but he’s almost certain it’s a trick of the lighting. 

“Oh, nothing! Just wanted to share that!” Ann’s angelic smile takes on a mischievous slant. And somehow by watching the slightest quirk of her lips, Akira knows she’s planning something. He has no idea what it could be, but he knows he’ll probably regret it. 

 

**__________________________________**

  
  
  


As it turns out, he's right. 

Which is how he finds himself in the Shibuya Big Bang Burger, a giant stack of fries in front of him and a slow-growing pit of dread in his stomach. 

Ann looks totally at ease, excited even. “So here’s my plan--”

“Plan for what?” Akira interrupts. There’s only one thing she could be talking about, but at the same time that is the very  _ last  _ thing Akira needs Ann to plan out for him. 

That excited look fades into something much more exasperated--as if Akira were the one causing so much trouble. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m talking about a plan to get you and Ryuji together?”

“What makes you think I need help?” Akira grumbles, half-heartedly. On one hand his pride demands that the absolute minimum amount of people bear witness to his bumbling romance attempts. But in reality the only progress he’s made relationship-wise has been clumsy at best, and some help from a functional human being  _ would  _ be appreciated. 

She rolls her eyes, “Of course you need help. You’re smart enough to stick with a plan, but too much of a chicken to ask him out outright, while Ryuji’s too dumb to pick up on hints even though he’s reckless enough to flirt openly. Someone has to get you two idiots on the same page!”

Honestly? Ann has a point. So much so that Akira just sits back into the booth and nods in acceptance, mindlessly grabbing a handful of fries to shove them in his mouth. 

“So what’s the plan?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Ann leans forward, full of girlish eagerness. “Okay! All you need to do is initiate things every once in a while and show Ryuji that you’re interested, and then that idiot’ll do the rest of the work! And then the two of you can go be gross together  _ and I won’t have to listen to you pine non-stop.” _

Akira stops chewing in disbelief, “...Your master plan is just me flirting?”

“Hey! Don’t look down on my idea!” With a petulant pout Ann steals some fries, “It’s not like you have any idea on what to do before this?”

“Of course I did. I was going to…”

_ Pine away silently until natural selection comes for him.  _

“Wing it?” 

Ann just shakes her head, “Sounds like a great plan. But I’m serious here. Just  _ try  _ and flirt with him.  _ Please.  _ I’ll do anything so you won’t send me a million and one texts about Ryuji. Every. Single. Day.”

“I-I’m not that bad!”

“Yeah you are,” both Ann and Morgana deadpan at the same time. Morgana’s seems to have woken up from a dead sleep just to insult Akira. This is the possibly the fourth time today someone’s told him his crush is getting out of hand, and it slowly begins to sink in that he really might have a problem. 

“Fine. Fine. I’ll try out your ‘plan’. I need all the help I can get at this point,” Akira says. At his agreement Ann beams at him...then slides the now empty tray of fries back over to his side. He takes a second to quietly mourn all of the yen Ann has taken from him directly and indirectly, but says nothing. 

Across the booth Ann smiles like she hasn’t done anything wrong in her entire life. “You definitely won’t regret taking my advice! Let me me the guide to your first love experience!”

“What? This isn’t my first--?”

“It isn’t?” Ann stares at him intensely, “You’re this much of a bumbling idiot and you’ve DATED BEFORE!?”

Akira can’t even defend himself; he just lays face down on the waxed table, laughing to himself while Ann berates him.

 

 

 

**5/24**

  
  
  


Days pass and Akira hasn’t had the opportunity to put Ann’s master plan into action. Not because he’s chickened out, but because they’ve all been too busy trying  _ not  _ to die in the Metaverse, and despite the frequency of their trips things don’t get that much easier. 

Which is how Akira finds himself spacing out in front of the courtyard’s vending machine--blankly staring at the rows of juice boxes and sodas without actually processing what he’s seeing. And that’s precisely how Ryuji finds him as he comes rounding the corner. 

“Hey, there you are!” Ryuji says as he saunters towards Akira.Even though Akira’s half in another world, Ryuji’s mischievous grin rings loud and true, and those alarm bells increase in intensity when Ryuji looks around before pitching his voice low. “I need your help with something…”

“It isn’t illegal, right?” Akira asks warily. Ryuji gets into enough trouble on his own, and as flattered as Akira is at being included in more than just a couple of these harebrained schemes it isn’t necessarily beneficial to their plan of “laying low.”

Ryuji doesn’t answer the question, just shoves a wrinkled flyer in his face, “I found this stuffed in my mailbox this morning.” 

The flyer in question is garish and pink, lace details trimming the top and bottom, but what instantly draws Akira’s eye is the bust shot of a young girl, clad in the costume of a stereotypical French maid. The very first thing Akira does is commit Ryuji’s apparent preference for maids to memory, then he begins to wonder altogether how the fuck he can “help” with  _ this.  _

His brain comes up with one sudden, highly inappropriate solution to the question,“So are you implying that by help you mean you need me to dress up like a maid for you? Because I’m pretty sure one of those aprons would make make my butt look big.”

In retrospect he could’ve been a lot more subtle with the flirting--maybe start with a few compliments, or maybe an invitation to go out on an off day. But the one thing that can be said about Akira is that he has no problem going big right off the bat. 

And Ryuji wastes no time getting on Akira’s level. With a laugh Ryuji steps closer, subtly crowding Akira into the drink machine. Instantly, Akira’s heart is jumping into his throat, this is beginning to play out like one of his (many) sappy daydreams that involve being pushed against the nearest surface and--

“You know this says “Housekeeping Services” right? You willin’ to clean for me?” Casually, oh so casually, Ryuji props a hand above Akira’s head, leaning over him with a sharp smile that should be illegal in all 47 prefectures. 

For a moment Akira’s a bit overwhelmed in the best way by the now familiar scent of Ryuji’s body wash. And then it dawns on him that his offer hasn’t been met with disinterest. In fact, Akira studies the look in Ryuji’s eyes, he looks anything  _ but  _ disinterested. 

_ Oh God, he’s actually doing this.  _

“‘Course I would. You think I can’t clean or something?” Akira snarks back, and he’s 30% sure the blonde’s eyes quirk down to his lips while he speaks. 

“It’s true you do look clean enough…” Ryuji muses, “And you wouldn’t charge me the full 5000 yen, yeah?”

“It depends,” Akira grins wickedly,  “If you hide your porn first you might get a discount.”

Ryuji laughs outright, bending at the waist as he does, and dislodging the arm propped near Akira. When he regains his composure they’re still standing just a  _ bit  _ too close to be interpreted as completely friendly. “Luckily we don’t have to worry about that, some guy on my floor just moved out so there’s a vacant apartment in my complex. And the key’s currently behind the mailbox…”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or disturbed at all the thought you’ve put into this,” Akira muses. When it comes to indulging in recreation of a questionable kind, Ryuji’s obviously the guy to turn to. 

“Be impressed! C’mon having a maid do anything for ya is the dream! Right? Right?” 

It comes as no surprise that Akira can’t say no to that face. “Fine,” he grumbles, pretending to be more put out than he actually is. “I’ll go with you--not that I think I had much of a choice.”

“You didn’t,” Ryuji chirps, reaching up to ruffle Akira’s mess of hair affectionately. The moment of contact makes Akira flush, even as an unconscious thrill goes through him. Ryuji reclaims his hand to stare at it like it betrayed him somehow, and  _ that’s  _ when a voice goes:

“Hey, I heard that!” 

Moments later the voices owner comes striding around the corner, and it’s Mishima. Ryuji and Akira spring apart faster than repelling magnets. “What the hell?” Ryuji blurts out, shocked both by Mishima’s sudden appearance, and the loud noise that is the back of Akira’s head making contact with the vending machine. 

It’s clear that Mishima’s eager about  _ something,  _ he fidgets in place as he asks. “Can I-- Can I um...get in on this?” 

Akira’s a bit preoccupied tending to the now throbbing part of his head that suffered the unfortunate collision with the metal of the vending machine, but  at once Ryuji’s confusion clears to be replaced with something a lot more...smug. 

“Ohhh, you mean you’re into this kinda stuff? Very interesting! Okay,” Ryuji grins. Mishima, with an honesty borne from either eagerness or just trust, nods emphatically. 

“I..” Akira groans, and this time it has nothing to do with his head. “I have learned too much about the two of you faster than I would like.”

Mishima takes a step back, scandalized. “I-It’s not like that! This is for research! They’ll do “anything”? Do they look like the advertisements? This is our duty to evaluate these things!” 

Both Akira and Ryuji blink at him blandly.  “That’s a bit much…” Akira grouses. Leave it to Mishima to be  _ this  _ weird.

“C’mon! This is for justice!” Mishima cries. He walks forward to take Akira’s hand in what is probably supposed to be a moving gesture.  “I want to take down the bad guys, and in order to do that I have to see everything with my own eyes!”

“We are still talking about a maid service, right?” Frankly, Akira’s doesn’t know what to do with all of Mishima’s fervor, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him tag along. He turns to give the affirmative to Ryuji, but the blonde has all of his focus on where Mishima has Akira’s hands trapped in his. 

He’s frowning and his brows are furrowed--in fact the last time Ryuji’s looked this serious unrelated to video games or food, he was trying not to throw up on fancy hotel carpet that probably cost three times their parents’ rent. 

“Whatever you say,” Ryuji says, tone not at all enthusiastic. “We have to do this at night, so we’ll leave it up to you what night we go.”

Mishima turns to say something, but pauses when he catches sight of the less than pleased look on Ryuji’s face. Time seems to slow down as Mishima follows Ryuji’s gaze to his and Akira’s hands. Even though Akira is still  _ thoroughly  _ confused, Mishima apparently comes up with a conclusion very quickly. 

He lets Akira go to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry about that Sakamoto-kun, I wouldn’t have taken you to be the jealous type.”

“What? I wasn’t--” Ryuji protests, but Mishima’s already walking away with a wave.

“It’s fine!” Mishima calls back as he retreats, “My mom always says a little bit of jealousy is just a man showing he cares!”

With a roar, Ryuji goes chasing after Mishima, who screams in horror and takes off running in the opposite direction. Akira’s left back where he started, only that this time he’s mulling over the absurdity of the idea that Ryuji would be jealous over  _ him.  _ It’s possibly the most absurd thing he’s ever heard and/or experienced. 

That is until the maid that shows up at the empty apartment turns out to be his homeroom  _ teacher.  _

  
  


**5/27**

  
  


“Here we are! Protein Lovers gym!” Ryuji strikes a pose, obviously proud of his discovery. It hasn’t even been a full two weeks since it was decided they needed a new workout spot, and Akira finds himself nodding in approval as he takes in the place. 

The country boy in him imagined every Tokyo gym would be huge and sprawling, nothing but glass walls and meat heads hanging around the complementary Jamba Juice. Protein Lovers is a lot more...quaint. It’s small with a simple facade, and overall it looks clean and well-kempt. 

“It’s cute!” Akira exclaims, and Ryuji puffs up even more with pride. 

“I did good, huh? It’s pay per visit so you don’t have to worry about contracts or anything. The equipment’s kinda crappy, but at least they have variety!”

“You’re pretty good at researching as long as it doesn’t involve actual work…”

“Shaddup.” Ryuji punches Akira in the arm lightly, no need in his words or his movements. “Oh yeah! You bring your stuff?”

Admittedly, Akira’s a bit caught up in the overwhelming amount of fondness Ryuji shows him everytime he says something kinda stupid. Which may be a lot. And it’s not just because Akira’s addicted to the soft smile Ryuji sends his way every time. Sometimes he really has no idea what’s going on. 

Kinda like now. 

“Stuff?” Akira echoes, head tilting to the side like a lost kitten. “Protein?”

Ryuji nods, instantly going into exercise buff mode. “Hell yeah man, if you wanna beef up you gotta--Wait no! I’m talking ‘bout spare undies! Nothing’s worse than having to change back into old underwear, and there’s no way I’m loaning you mine.”

Akira struggles to keep his face decidedly neutral, even as his brain decides to fixate on figuring out what kind of underwear Ryuji wears. He’s leaning towards boxers at the moment. It’s a pathetic train of thought to journey down, but it’s better than imagining exactly what sharing underwear could mean. 

Oh god, now he’s thinking about it. Fuck off, brain. 

“You sure you won’t share?” Akira teases, sticking out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. Ann said to flirt, why not go all out. “Not even if I beg?”

The way Ryuji looks at him then is probably the furthest away from fond. The blonde peels his eyes away from where he’s been inspecting his nails to look Akira dead in the eyes. His eyes narrow a bit as he says, “Save that for later.” Akira doesn’t know if the accompanying licking of his lips is unconscious or not, but it does  _ awful  _ things to his sanity. 

There’s absolutely nothing for him to say--nothing that isn’t desperate or disgusting….or both. So with faintly wobbly legs, Akira marches into the gym. And with a laugh, Ryuji follows. 

  
  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


One fairly intensive workout later Akira’s standing in one of the gym’s showers, letting the hot water work its magic on his soon to be sore muscles. He never remembers why he hates exercising until the next day. 

A sharp pain rushes through him when he raises his arm, and Akira winces. Scratch that. He hates exercise  _ now.  _ But he can’t deny the effects of all the working out; even Yusuke, who doesn’t pay attention to anything unrelated to art, has noticed an increase in Akira’s muscle tone. 

And if Akira were to be completely honest with himself, he’d willingly take another hour on the treadmill with weights tied around his ankles if Ryuji asked him to. 

The thought is embarrassing even to himself, and Akira scrubs at himself harder to take his mind off of it. His thoughts trail off to the mess that is Shujin’s track team--get rid of one shitty gym teacher and another will take their place--when he hears a familiar voice screech in pain a few stalls down. 

Akira pauses, his special organic soap in hand because the voice sounded a  _ lot  _ like Ryuji’s. After a moment he brushes it off, and no sooner than he dismisses the thought, the partition to his shower swishes open. 

“What the fuck!?” Akira blurts out on instinct, whirling around to find himself chest-to-chest with Ryuji. 

“You’ll never believe--Stop screaming it’s me. The hot water gave out in my shower, dude! I nearly died in there!” Ryuji closes the partition behind him calmly, showing no indications of discomfort (or intentions of leaving). Akira however would be sweating bullets if he wasn’t already in the shower. 

He’s a tense mess, simultaneously trying to cover himself up with whatever he can (which is only a wash towel and a bar of soap) and doing his best to  _ not  _ look down at all of what Ryuji has no problem of showing. 

“Why couldn’t you just go to another stall?” Akira asks, obviously flustered. The absolute last thing he needs for his already fragile mind is a shared shower. 

Ryuji stops lathering up his towel to pout at Akira,”But all the rest of ‘em are full. Want me to stand around butt ass naked like a weirdo or something? C’mon~ I’ll even wash your back for you!”  The expression is doubly effective with his hair flattened to his face with water, making him look like a puppy caught in the rain. 

“Fine,” Akira sighs, he scoots closer to the shower head to make room for Ryuji, who wastes no time in boldly stepping closer to the spray of the water. It’s more than a little cramped, but they manage to stand on either side of the stall without touching...parts. “Don’t look at my butt,” he tacks on belatedly. 

“No promises,” Ryuji quips with that same flirty grin, and Akira’s incredibly thankful for the heat of the water, because he’s sure his face must be bright red by now. He goes back to soaping himself up, because conversation is next to impossible for Akira at the moment. 

Ryuji follows suit, showering peacefully. Akira stanchly refuses to look over at him (out of respect, not because he’s pretty sure if he gave in to his desires and watched the water travel down the planes of Ryuji’s back, he’d end up staring like an idiot), but he can clearly make out the blonde whistling to himself--he’s  _ that  _ laid back. 

Akira wishes he could be even half that relaxed. In fact he’s so tense, he nearly jumps a vertical mile when Ryuji suddenly grabs his shoulders to twist him around for better access to his back. 

“I told you I’d wash your back,” Ryuji laughs, already scrubbing at Akira’s back in surprisingly gentle circles. 

“Y-you don’t have to.” 

“But I want to! Aren’t you from the country? I thought you were all about hospitality?”

“Are you calling me a country bumpkin?” In response Ryuji just laughs. If he weren’t so damn charming in a natural, totally unintended kind of way Akira would be offended. “And for the record, this goes beyond hospitality I never even took a shower with my ex before.”

The hands on his back falter for the briefest of moments before resuming their efforts with twice as much force. “You’ve...dated someone before?”

“Yeah?” Akira can’t make quite understand the purpose of the question, or the tone behind it. Does everyone not think he can snag a guy? “Is that hard to believe? Ann told me about that one girl you dated.”

Try as he might to not be hyperaware of Ryuji behind him, Akira pinpoints the exact moment when Ryuji stiffens up in surprise. 

“That was junior high! And why the hell would she tell you about that? A-anyways that's not important! This means you’re the closest to me, yeah?”

There’s a hopeful, searching lilt in Ryuji’s voice. It’s a casual question, but the underlying context is anything but. 

“Of course,” Akira says immediately. He stares at the tiles of the shower, he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to get the words out if they were face-to-face. “There’s no one else I’d shower with.”

“Good.”

And Akira doesn’t have to turn around to hear the pleased smile splitting across Ryuji’s face. Ryuji goes back to happily washing Akira’s back while the latter tries to come up with a casual way to tell Ann about  _ this.  _

  
  
  
  
  


**5/30**

  
  


Though they must seem like a ragtag group of kids loitering around the Shibuya Walkway after school, there’s a definite air of determination between the five of them. They’d reached Madarame’s Treasure three days ago, and everyone’s finished their preparations for the real deal. 

Akira’s preparation included buying an almost obscene amount of SP healing soft drinks, doing enough chin ups in LeBlanc  to give him hope that Morgana’s--admittedly kind of brilliant--plan will  _ not  _  get them killed, and mourn to himself that because of this plagiarizing, money-grubbing artist, his one-on-one time available with Ryuji has been decreased down to none. 

“I’ve thought this over carefully. And i cannot  think of a future where he does not pay his dues, but still I admit that I am nervous,” Yusuke uncrosses his to stare down at a gently trembling hand, a vexed look on his face. 

Morgana turns understanding eyes towards Yusuke, “That’s a natural response, there is no easy way of going back after this. But now that you’ve made up your mind, there’s nothing to fear!”

Yusuke nods before turning to Akira, “The next step is sending a ‘calling card’, correct? What a sauve maneuver…”

“I dunno if we can call those cut up magazine clippings Kamoshida got ‘sauve’,” Akira muses with a barely stifled laugh. 

Ryuji, sitting with his back against the railing, takes advantage of his position to smack Akira in the back of the knee, laughing when his leg buckles a bit reflexively. “Are you tryna say my drawing skills suck?”

“Would I say something like that?” Akira says with a faux shocked gasp. He leans down to pat Ryuji’s head sympathetically. He’s taken aback by the softness of the strands, and when he says this aloud Ryuji grumbles but doesn’t move away. 

“He does a point,” Morgana adds, “That last one was questionable at best… Are you going to write this too?”

“How about you do it then, Yusuke? Make it all artistic and stuff!” Ann suggests over Ryuji’s offended groaning. May it be noted that never once does he move from where he’s leaning against Akira’s leg or dislodged the hand in his hair. 

Despite all the cheap shots at his artistic talent, or lack thereof, Ryuji seems excited by the prospect. He clamors to his feet, leaving Akira to pretend he isn’t left bereft now that his hands are free.“Ohh! Good idea! I’ll write it up, and you’ll make it cooler!”

The artist in question seems to be on board as well, he actually offers a rarely seen smile, “This should be interesting…”

“Then it’s settled! Let’s get going!” 

Akira scoops up his bag in preparation to split ways as Morgana gives his usual encouraging “Let’s get the Treasure” spiel. He’s going through a mental checklist of last minute things they might need: healing products, a few lockpicks (because that one gold unopened treasure chest is driving him  _ crazy),  _ and possibly one or two thing of new armor. 

Preoccupied as he is, Akira doesn’t realize he’s being spoken to until Ryuji’s waving a hand in his face. “You should come with us!”

“What?”

“Come with us! To...y’know do the calling card? An extra set of eyes won’t hurt!”

Dumbly, Akira stares at him, eyebrows disappearing beneath his bangs from surprise. He didn’t help with the calling card last time so he wasn’t expecting an invitation. Like some kind of friendless weirdo, he glances at Ann. She’s heard (eavesdropped) the invitation, and she motions not-so-subtly for Akira to  _ go.  _

With the support behind him, Akira turns back to the earnest way Ryuji’s still watching him and nods. “I’ll go?”

Everything else can wait. 

  
  


**__________________________________**

 

 

Turns out Yusuke has that extreme level of intense concentration regardless of what he’s working on. Ryuji throws out a couple of phrases for the calling card, using the help of a dictionary to get words like “deplorable” and “degenerate”. And then Yusuke’s working his magic, paintbrush flying across the blank card. 

This leaves Akira with not much to do but laze around. They’re back in Madarame’s shack (thankfully the artist’s gone for the night), and it’s a bit surreal to have returned to the place of their initial misfortune. 

After a while of feverish work, Yusuke sits back from his work with a sigh. “I know what we are doing is for the best, but I cannot but to feel anxious. Was it this way when you had to deal with Kamoshida as well?”

Ryuji, who’d previously been sprawled out on the floor, sits up with a groan,“Yeah, I was hella freaked out the whole time, but we couldn’t just let an asshole like that go! Madarame’s no different!”

It’s typical straight-forward Ryuji logic, but Akira can’t help but to smile at the sincerity. Even Yusuke seems a bit relieved, the tense set of his shoulders relaxing and the grip on his paintbrush loosening. 

“What about you, Akira? You always seem so level-headed.”

“That’s our leader!” Morgana brags, sitting smugly on Yusuke’s desk to “monitor the progress of the calling-card”--Ryuji prefers to call it micromanaging, but that’s neither here nor there. “He always keeps a cool head unlike  _ some  _ people.”

Whatever angry comeback Ryuji is sure to be preparing is cut off by Akira’s sudden laugh. “Actually I was scared shitless ever since we were in Kamoshida’s office.”

Three pairs of eyes turn to him with ranging levels of shock. He can’t really blame them; he tries his best to at least  _ appear  _ to be the least freaked out person at all times. Not to mention there’s very little time in the interim between potentially life-ruining scenarios to sit down and have a conversation about feelings. 

“It was horrifying to watch Ryuji smash that desk into pieces,” Morgana nods. 

Yusuke perks up at this, “Oh? So that was real? I had heard rumors at Kosei that someone had destroyed the P.E. faculty room, but to think it was you…”

“I did  _ not  _ destroy the place! I only hit a chair!” Ryuji huffs. 

“With your foot,” Akira adds. 

“So hard it cracked a wall!” Morgana lies. 

Ryuji has given up on trying to argue with either of them, preferring instead to rub at his temples as Yusuke stares at him in awe. The blonde peeks through his hands at Akira, clearly giving them the signal to  _ Get to talking before my head explodes.  _

With a soft laugh, Akira acquiesces, “In all seriousness though, I was stressed as hell the first time we went through this. But we won’t fail--we can’t fail.”

“Thank you,” Yusuke says softly, lips curving in a soft smile. He looks relieved, and Akira would definitely consider this a job well done. “I can understand why the two of you make such a great pair. You’re something like parental figures in this moment I suppose.”

Akira freezes instantly. He watches Morgana scrunch up as he laughs to himself, whether it’s at the expressions on their faces or Yusuke’s assumption in itself it’s hard to tell. Why everyone in Tokyo seems to think they’re dating is behind Akira. Wait okay, the whole  _ shower  _ thing felt very….not platonic, but besides that he has no idea. 

“Wha--” Akira glances at Ryuji who is just as red-faced as Akira is. “We’re not--”

“It’s okay,” Yusuke nods sagely, “Love is something that cannot be bound by gender. I would never judge either one of you.”

“S-seriously,” Ryuji weakly protests, “We’re really not dating.”

It’s obvious Yusuke doesn’t believe either one of them, he just turns back to his design. 

  
  
  
  


**6/3**

  
  


“Hmm, interesting.” Takemi picks up one chart then another, flipping between the pages. Akira still can’t make much sense out of anything that happens in the clinic--he still has no idea what body part the x-ray tacked above the desk is supposed to be. 

His job is to be a guinea pig, and he does as such. 

“The inhibitory effect took just as I expected, but your test results show a rise of Serotonine and Norepinephrine levels,” with a slow, confident smile Takemi plops the clipboard down. “Are you in love by any chance?”

To say Akira is shocked is a gross understatement. 

Like a protagonist of a shoujo manga, he places his hands over his burning cheeks. His expression alone is all the confirmation needed. Takemi takes one good look at him before laughing outright. 

“Just kidding!” she grins, “I can’t do those kinds of tests here. This isn’t a hospital you know.”

This isn’t the first time Akira has seriously wondered what goes on in Takemi’s head for her to have such a sick sense of humor, but it’s something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. “Then how…?” he croaks out. 

Takemi scoffs at him, “My eyes aren’t just for decoration. The last time you were here you got a phone call, and whoever it was on the other line made you  _ very  _ happy.”

Akira flushes harder, burying his head in his hands. “This is so awkward….”

“What? We can’t talk about that kind of thing? I see you as a little brother type, one that I can run as many tests on that I need.” She pats Akira on the head, the gesture as full of affection as Takemi can be. 

“You’re not going to give me ‘the talk’ are you?” Akira groans through his hands. 

“That’s not covered in your insurance.”

When Akira peeps through his hands to glare at Takemi, she just crosses her legs spinning in her chair to face the her laptop. Akira takes this as his cue to leave; he’s figured it out the hard way that overextending his welcome only leads to strenuous physical exams. 

The 5 kilometer run in Inokashira Park is something he does  _ not  _ want to repeat. 

“There’s one more thing you should know…” she starts, not even bothering to face Akira as she begins to enter some information into a spreadsheet. “A possible side effect of the drug is increased arousal, particularly during deep REM sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll--wait...WHAT?”

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


Later that night Akira has completely forgotten all about Takemi’s warning. It’s something of a miracle considering he spent the whole train ride back to Yongen feverishly Googling what the fuck REM sleep is, and possible ways to avoid it. 

But as he’s climbing into the bed the only thing on his mind is how  _ good _ a full night’s rest is going to be. He runs through his nightly routine: moisturizer for his skin applied, glasses off and on the nightstand, phone hooked up the charger, and all of his (unfinished) homework packed up in his bag. 

No sooner does his head hit the pillow does he drift off into dreamland. 

**__________________________________**

  
  


Akira wakes up and the whole world is fuzzy around the edges. He’s warm, incredibly warm, and after a moment of blissful relaxation he realizes that a majority of the warmth is coming from  _ behind  _ him. 

The warmth shifts and then there’s a pair of hands twining around his waist to pull him backwards into a solid body mass. One hand has already found its way under his sleep shirt, trailing upwards gently but steadily. 

Somehow Akira’s already shivering in pleasure, and the sensation only increases tenfold when he feels lips being pressed against the back of his neck. 

He’s sure he fell asleep with pants on, but now the roaming hand only has to slip underneath the waistband of his underwear to rub a hand along his hip bones. Slowly the hand creeps lower, getting dangerously close to a  _ very  _ sensitive area. 

Akira’s already half-hard from the languid attention, but as the other hand starts to rub at a nipple through the shirt he’s getting fully erect embarrassingly fast. The person behind him, he--and without even thinking Akira knows he’s male (the assumption isn’t just made based on large, rough quality of their hands, somehow he just  _ knows _ ) chuckles breathily, and pressing closer so that his own clothed cock presses against the cleft of Akira’s ass. 

Mystery Guy laughs again, probably at the unintentional whine Akira lets out. Akira can’t find it in himself to be particularly embarrassed because in no time he’s releasing a litany of muffled moans as Mystery Guy starts working a hand over Akira’s cock. 

And he knows exactly how Akira likes it. Mystery Guy keeps a firm grip, torquing his wrist juuust so on every downstroke, and using the copious amount of precum Akira’s leaking to make it even better. 

It feels good. With every pump of his cock he’s being pressed against the erection behind him, the dual stimulation unraveling his composure with an ease that’s almost scary. Akira wants to roll over, to straddle Mystery Guy and find out first hand how good it would feel to be skin on skin, but he’s being firmly pressed into the bedding by his body weight. 

Not that Akira minds, it’s something about being held down like this that has him squirming and heat blooming throughout his core. He’s getting close, and Mystery Guy must know it because he slows down the movement of his hand, torturing Akira with a slow pace. 

Being forced to feel every single slow second of the large, calloused hand pumping his cock is awful in the absolute best way. 

“Want more,” Akira hears himself whine, the first thing he’s said since he’s woken up. It’s amazing he could even speak with his mouth so dry and brain unable to process anything but how good he feels in this moment. 

“You look really good right now, you know that?” Mystery Guy says, the smile evident in his voice. And that voice is very familiar….incredibly familiar.  _ Disturbingly familiar.  _

It hits him as the hand around his cock begins to stroke him faster and faster, thumb swiping right at the sensitive spot under the head every other stroke. He is not awake. He is dreaming, and Mystery Guy isn’t a mystery at all. 

He’s having a fucking wet dream about his best friend. 

The absurdity and embarrassment of it doesn’t negate the arousal--not at all. Akira’s full on panting because he’s so close, his toes curl and his fingers clutch at the sheets. And then he’s waking up, face-down into his pillow. 

For a long moment Akira lays there in the darkness of the room, catching his breath and steadying his heart rate. He doesn’t know if he should feel cheated or relieved that he didn’t get to finish, but his boxer-briefs are still sticky from precum. 

“I am going to fling myself off the room,” Akira mutters to himself. He has no idea how he’s going to handle school tomorrow...or look Ryuji in the eye. He tries to ignore the very persistent problem in his pants, because jerking off now would be crossing a line Akira isn’t even willing to acknowledge. 

As he tosses and turns in a vain attempt to get comfortable, his irritation grows and grows until he snaps. With a huff he pulls his phone off the charger to send a message to person responsible for his current state.

**Akira:** I demand a bigger discount on that medicine. My emotional labor deserves to be compensated

  
  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slow burns are actually torture......luckily....there's only one or two more chapters until things reach critical mass. and boy am i ready for that! this chapter was a lot of fun? and it went by so fast! i'm going to try and update once a month but i graduate in may so...we'll see. thanks to everyone reading and kudo-ing and commenting! ya'll are literally the best!!!!


	6. Le (Presque) Baiser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morgana gives good advice, ryuji and akira play a game of "how close can i get my face to yours...platonically", ann enacts her revenge, and yusuke attempts to rip the hair right off of akira's head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not dead but only bc of my intense akiryu love

**6/5**

  
  


Akira trudges upstairs to his room and without hesitation he throws himself on the floor with a big sig. Arms and legs splayed out like some kind of exhausted starfish. It’s been a tiresome past few days--for more than just one reason. 

Reason one: Takemi only sent back a single devil-face emoji in response the other day. That could either mean she’s simply laughing at his misery, or she’s laughing  _ and  _ preparing another medicine that’ll give him even worse side effects. 

He’s not too sure there’s anything worse than crazy vivid wet dreams, but if there is leave it to Takemi to stumble upon it. 

At least he doesn’t have to stress about Madarame any longer. His tearful apology was broadcasted plain as day in Shibuya earlier. Yusuke had kept them updated day to day on all of Madarame’s oddness post Treasure stealing, but there was never any guarantee things were going to go right.

The whole time Akira was half-expecting for Madarame to spawn a completely new palace, and forcing them to do the whole thing all over again. So he can never bring himself to relax until the effects of the change of heart are looking him directly in the face.

A downside to Madarame’s confession (and their subsequent release from the threat of legal action) which is conveniently the second--and biggest-- reason why Akira wants to sleep for three days straight. Now that the case is closed Akira has all the free time in the world to focus on the mess that is his personal life. 

Well, mess is too simple of a word. 

For the past 36 hours Akira has been a jumpy, embarrassed bundle of nerves. He could barely look Ryuji in the eye without having intense flashbacks of his dream. He’s already harboring a crush the size of Yongen-Jaya, and that wet dreams seems to have just doused the whole thing with gasoline, lighter fluid, AND nuclear waste. 

Anytime Ryuji talked, laughed--hell even breathed--it nearly reduced Akira into ash. It wouldn’t be as bad if the two of them weren’t together  _ all the time.  _ Akira suspects he can only use the “My face is red because my ramen’s too spicy” excuse a few more times before everyone starts to get suspicious. 

God, who knew having a crush could be so difficult. 

Tiny paws start walking up the length of his legs, before purposefully trampling the more sensitive parts of his stomach. The twinge of pain is enough to startle Akira from his semi-catatonic state on the floor. 

“What are you doing?” Akira groans as Morgana makes himself comfortable standing on Akira’s chest. It’s cute for sure, but Akira has learned to never trust Morgana when he acts cute. 

“Nothing,” Morgana says, blue eyes wide and guileless. 

Before Akira can get even more weirded out, his phone buzzes next to him. Thankful for the distraction, he unlocks his phone to find a new message in the group chat.

 

**Yusuke:** You have my gratitude

 

**Ryuji:** what are you gettin all polite for? there’s no need for that

 

**Yusuke:** I am truly grateful that all of you helped me come to my senses

 

**Akira:** No need to exaggerate. We didn’t do much

**Akira:** Besides break into Madarame’s shack that one time

 

**Ryuji:** yeah! we’re never formal with each other

 

**Akira:** Correction: Ryuji’s never formal

 

**Yusuke:** I have noticed that to be true

 

**Ryuji:** HEY!

 

**Yusuke:** But I needed to express myself properly and earnestly. 

 

**Ryuji:** enough of that! you’re part of us now. we’ll be counting on you now!

 

**Ann:** ah, all of this friendship is warming my heart 

**Ann:** and if anything ever comes up we’ll always be there to lend a hand

 

**Yusuke:** Of course. Thank you. 

  
  


Akira puts his phone down with a hint of a smile. Despite the sheer craziness these past two months have been, it’s more than just a little heart-warming to have such a loyal team around him. He’s pretty sure his sanity would’ve been found dead in a ditch if it weren’t for Ann alone. 

Still on his chest, Morgana makes a thoughtful noise. “It wasn’t easy, but we finally finished out first job! And now that Yusuke’s joined we’re looking more and more like an official team!”

“That’s true. Feels like just yesterday it was just the two of us in Kamoshida’s castle.” 

Morgana nods, but then he fixes Akira with a serious expression, “With that in mind we need to talk.” A cold chill travels down the length of Akira’s spine. This can only spell trouble. 

“T-talk about what?” Akira tries to play it cool, but inside he’s going through a list--that’s admittedly kinda long--of the things could possibly have him in trouble. 

“Something’s come to my attention, and I’ve decided now’s a good time to discuss it. You--”

“--Is this about all the times I’ve taken selfies in the Metaverse?” Akira interrupts. “I haven’t posted the pictures anywhere. I was just bored. They came out all weird because of the Metaverse anyways.”

“Need to be--wait what?” Morgana stops mid-sentence to blink at him confusedly. Slowly, the words begin to sink in, and Akira can pinpoint the exact moment when Morgana decides to scratch up every pair of shoes he owns. 

Akira watches as Morgana calms himself, shaking his head so that his ears flop about. With his head cleared he levels Akira again with that serious look. “What I was going to say was you need to be careful with Ryuji.”

That wasn’t quite was Akira expected. “Careful?” he parrots, confused. They’d already stopped getting the extra spicy beef bowls then loading the whole thing with enough Sriracha sauce to down a horse, and he was sure that was the most dangerous thing they’d been doing. 

Morgana has the nerve to look exasperated, “I’m saying be careful with whatever game you’re playing. If things blow up, it won’t just affect you, it’ll throw the whole team into disarray.”

“Are you implying my feelings aren’t serious?” Akira bolts upright, body language totally defensive. He ends up dislodging Morgana from where he stood on Akira’s legs, and the cat just continues to watch him with a distrustful gaze. “You think I’d be making a fool out of myself for weeks if I wasn’t serious?”

“You have a point,” Morgana agrees after a moment, gaze softening. “Incompetence like yours is hard to fake. I don’t know why you just can’t confess and get this all over with.”

“What’s the point of confessing if you don’t know the other person likes you back?” Akira mutters sulkily. It’s pathetic enough to be grieving the mess that is his love life to a  _ cat,  _ but to be treated like a complete idiot is the cherry on top. What does Morgana know about love anyways? 

Morgana doesn’t look moved at his comment, if anything just looks resigned to Akira’s particular brand of stubbornness. As Morgana turns to slink away towards the door Akira swears he hears him mumble something along the lines of  _ Both of you are so annoying, pining after the other and being totally blind….  _

But before Akira can bombard Morgana with a flurry of sudden, burning questions, the latter turns around with one more thing to say. “I don’t care how you sort this all ur, but if you mess things up it’ll affect all of us. And even though Ryuji’s an even bigger idiot than you, I won’t let you string him along you got that?”

“I keep telling you I would never…” Akira trails off when Morgana’s words  _ truly  _ sink in. For what may be the first time ever Morgana has formed a sentence with Ryuji’s name in it that was only marginally offensive. 

Overcome with emotion Akira scrambles to his feet to scoop Morgana up into his arms, “Aww, Morgana who knew under all this fur you were such a softie!”

The moment doesn’t last long, but the scratches Akira ends up with for his efforts linger for a lot longer.    
  
  
  
  


**6/9**

  
  


“There’s no way in hell I’m getting on that thing,” Akira deadpans. His voice is firm but his knees tremble as he looks up at the mass of jumbled metal masquerading as a roller coaster. The closest thing they have in his hometown to a rollercoaster is lying down in the backseat while his cousin speeds through traffic. 

So it’s safe to say this is way out of his league. 

At Akira’s vehement dismissal Ryuji’s slumps over dramatically, pouting over in Akira’s direction. For once Akira isn’t moved--well he  _ is-- _ but this time his fear of being flung through the stratosphere to his cold and lonely space death is stronger than his massive crush could ever be. 

His terror-stricken face moves doesn’t move an inch, prompting Ryuji to ask. “What? Are you seriously that afraid of heights? This is Tokyo! All of this shit has to meet safety regulations or whatever.” 

He looks to Ann to back him up. Out of the three of them she’s the best a rationalizing things, but truthfully the bar is quite low. 

Ann glances up from her thing of overpriced fries (that she staunchly refuses to share) amusedly, “Of course it’s safe! Unless the cart gets stuck upside down and they can’t get you down. Or! If you don’t get strapped in right you might fall out on a fast turn!”

She goes on to rattle off some statistics of roller coaster injuries in Tokyo, and with every number Akira can see his imminent demise that much more clear in his mind. 

Deeming Akira a lost cause, Ryuji turns hopeful eyes towards Ann. “Looks like it’s just me and you then.” 

“Says who?” she raises a questioning brow as she breezes past the both of them, shoveling the remaining fries into her mouth before throwing the container in a nearby trash can. Around that same mouthful of food she slurs out, “And I just ate, so unless you want me to paint your shoes in the middle of the ride, you’d be better off going alone.”

“But that’s so laaaaameee,” Ryuji wails, totally defeated. Akira pats him on the arm apologetically, which is a totally bad idea because he can feel developing biceps even through Ryuji’s t-shirt. He has to take a moment to compose himself and  _ not  _ let the desperate gay jump out. 

While Akira battles with himself Ann is actively trying to make it worse. “If you’re so desperate to ride then just hold Akira’s hand the whole time. That’ll calm him down,” she quips. 

“What?” Akira asks dryly, face decidedly neutral as he narrows his eyes at Ann. He can’t decide if she’s making fun of his fear of the roller coaster, or the fact that he’s spent the better part of the week wondering what it would be like to hold Ryuji’s hand. It’s probably both. “How old am I, twelve? That won’t work!”

Unsurprisingly Ryuji thinks the idea is  _ hilarious.  _ “You sure it won't work?” he teases, leaning down into Akira's personal space. “My hands are reeeaaaallllly soothing.”

“I’m sure all of the people you’ve punched shared that sentiment,” Akira retorts, despite the voice in his head chanting  _ I wanna hold his hand.  _

“I keep telling you I’m not that kind of punk!” But Ryuji’s still laughing, holding his hand in Akira’s face and wiggling his fingers in a way that is supposed to be appealing. It kinda is. But Akira has even found the downright monstrous way Ryuji scarfs down ramen cute, so he’s well-aware that his tastes are a bit skewed to the left. 

Akira purses his lips, and turns a wide-eyed hopeful look towards Ryuji, “You’ll hold my hand the whole time?”

“The whole time,” Ryuji promises, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. 

Just like that Akira can feel his resolve to stay off that giant metal death trap disappear faster than Ann’s fries. Speaking of her, Akira spares a glance over in her direction, and she’s watching the two of them like one might watch a daytime soap opera. But a low brow soap opera.

She offers no advice, or any comment, but at this point it’s a given that Akira’s way too smitten to pass up an opportunity like this one. Hopefully he won’t regret it. 

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


Thirty seconds after he’s strapped in the regret set in. The ride’s attendant is double checking the harnesses, and giving what Akira can only assume is safety guidelines, because the sudden wave of anxiety makes it hard for him to focus on what she’s saying.

He’s sure his face is clearly expressing all of the terror in his heart. A thought that’s confirmed when Ryuji glances at him to say something only to burst into laughter. 

“You look like you’re headed to your death, dude!” Ryuji doesn’t even try to hide how funny he finds it, just full on cackles at Akira’s expense. “You can take down Shadows, but you’re afraid of rollercoasters?”

“We don’t really have a choice when it comes to Shadows,” Akira pouts. Ryuji’s grin grows adorably wider. “But I can avoid a metal death machine no problem.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to keep you safe on this death machine, kay?” Ryuji holds out a hand, and it’s safe to say the smile he sends Akira’s way is nothing short of charming. Timidly, like some heroine in a shoujo manga, Akira places his hand in Ryuji’s. 

The first thing Akira notes is that their hands fit together well. It’s a sappy thought, and he’s embarrassing himself thinking about it. Akira’s world doesn’t explode into prismatic color at the contact, but nevertheless he’s struck at how….nice it is. 

No sooner than he has that thought their car creaks into motion, forcing Akira to focus more on trying to keep all of his organs in his body rather than any singular sensation. 

They're inching closer and closer to the first drop, and at this point Akira is gripping Ryuji's hand like it's a lifeline. “Don't throw up!” Ryuji yells over the steady metallic clunks of the ride,still finding such an excessive amount of joy at Akira's misery. 

Akira has a snarky comeback prepared--involving puking on the other's shoes--but the words are instantly morphed into screaming for his life as they plunge down the drop. Fortunately for 

Akira’s dignity (and Ryuji’s sneakers) his heart shoots up to his throat, meaning he won’t be able to puke anytime soon. 

His windpipe is barely clear enough for him to scream for his life,but Akira manages to find a way. Next to him, Ryuji is laughing with full-on mirth, and together they’ve become a duo of pure noise and chaos.

Somewhere after the second or maybe third sharp turn Akira decides decorum be damned. He begins to squeeze Ryuji’s hand at every dip and loop so hard they might fuse together. In fact they might have fused because even as the ride finally slows to a stop and the protective bar clicks away from them with a whoosh, the two of them continue to hold on to each other. 

When Ann questions him about it later, Akira will attribute it to the adrenaline. That and the total casualness about the whole thing. 

“See? You didn’t die,” Ryuji points out happily, hopping out of the seat before carefully helping a shaky Akira back onto terra firma. 

Akira goes to roll his eyes at the blonde’s smugness, but only ends up making his head swim even more. “Don’t speak too soon. I might just have a brain aneurysm on our way home.”

“Just admit you had fun, you nerd.”

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


Ann doesn't even try to be subtle as she judges them. 

They find her and Morgana not too far away from where they left them, in front of one of those kiddie game booths offering prizes if you pick the lucky rubber duck out of a giant wooden tub full of them. Akira would love to bask in the nostalgia of it all, but he finds it hard under the intense scrutiny of Ann’s gaze. 

For the entirety of Akira and Ryujis approach she watches them carefully, eyes blatantly trained on where their hands are joined.  

“Since you look so happy, I’m guessing you didn’t throw up or anything?” Ann queries, glancing up at Akira’s face before dropping back down to their hands. Akira just knows they are gonna have a  _ long _ conversation about this. 

“Or maybe he did and Ryuji liked it,” Morgana says in a conspiratorial half-whisper. 

Ryuji gasps scandalized. And just like that he and Morgana are arguing, the former finally letting Akira’s hand go to fully emote his rage. The second Ryuji let’s go Akira feels the air around drop at least 10 degrees. In the matter of seconds his temperature goes from mildly feverish to freezing. 

He kinda misses the warmth. 

The rubber duckies bobbing innocently in the tub watch him unblinkingly. Judging him.  _ Get it together you punk,  _ they seem to say. 

Akira sighs, partially because he’s having a mental conversation with plastic  _ ducks,  _ but mostly because he’s being struck with such a heavy wave of homesickness. Every New Year’s since he could remember he and his family would make the drive up to their local shrine to play games a booths similar to this one. 

Similar only in concept, not so much when it comes to execution. Whereas in his little country town the prizes were….vaguely low-budget. Vaguely meaning they were cheap as hell, but that was most of the charm. They were also occasionally inappropriate. He swears one year a booth was trying to pass out flavored condoms as a prize option. 

His dad insists to this day that it was a fancy type of tea bag, but Akira doesn’t buy it. 

In Tokyo, things are in no way the same. Here the “Extra Super Grand Prize” offered is probably the biggest water gun Akira’s ever seen. It’s easily the length of an arm, and resembles a bazooka more than a kid’s toy. 

Most concerning of all, is the way Ann is eyeing it with rapt fascination. “You don’t seriously...want that thing do you?” he asks, just a bit nervously. He has an inkling he might be on the receiving end of that water gun if Ann gets a hold of it.  

“Yeah?” she looks down at him smugly, “I think it’d be a good investment. I’m constantly surrounded by idiots, and I think this would help. You know how the discipline cats with a spray bottle?”

“I am not a cat,” Akira sighs. 

“She never said you were the idiot,” Morgana points out, tail swishing with pride as Ann laughs openly at the misstep. Fifteen minutes apart and Morgana has already changed allegiances. 

Pouting, Akira refuses to take his bag--and cat--back. If Morgana wants to jump ship he can. "I can proudly call myself an idiot, thank you very much. And I'm proud to be number one on your list of idiots."

"Who said you were number one?" Ann grumbles, but her words are drowned out by excited yelling to their right.

The elated noise is coming from Ryuji. He's holding a rubber duck bottom-side up and cheering at the black sharpie marking found right on the middle seam. "Look! I won!" He shoves the rubber duck underneath Akira's nose, waving it around obnoxiously. Akira's nice enough, and distracted enough by the sight of that all too familiar toothy grin, to not point out that a black marking is the lowest of all of them, thus warranting the lowest quality of prizes. Regardless, Ryuji treats it as if he had just won the lottery, and shows his win to the bored-looking owner of the booth eagerly. 

All of that excitement just makes the mediocrity of the prize that much more hilarious in contrast, because Ryuji's "grand prize" is, in fact, a single water balloon. 

Well, a glorified water balloon. It's supposed to be reminiscent of one of those bagged goldfish they used to give out at festivals back in his parents’ days, but this is just a cheap imitation. Akira guesses it's meant to evoke memories of a simpler time (and a time less concerned with the lives of those poor goldfish), but the fake fish is more of a plastic, orange blob that vaguely reminiscences something aquatic. If you squint....and tilt your head.  

Ann and Akira take one good look at the bag, and immediately dissolve into crow-like laughter. The booth-owner is beginning to look more annoyed than bored, yet Akira can't bring himself to be respectful. Ryuji however has moved from looking at his bagged "fish" with the look of a child jilted at Christmas, to watch the two of them laugh at his expense bitterly. "I hate both of you," he grumbles, sounding so put out they just laugh even harder. 

"Don't be that way," Akira says between residual giggling, "You're a winner!"

Ryuji scrunches up his face, making to throw the low-budget water balloon right at the others head. "Keep laughing and I'll make you regret it," he threatens. 

Akira's feeling particularly emboldened today--he'll chalk it up to the post-hand holding delirium--and taunts back. "You wouldn't."

He would. And he does.  

Thankfully, Akira’s instincts come in. He dodges, the water balloon sailing over his shoulder, not even grazing him. Not so thankfully, instead of exploding safely on the pavement far, far away from a live human being, it bursts right at someone’s feet, splashing water upwards. 

Akira intuits this without even turning around, if only because Ryuji freezes as he stares shell-shocked at something behind him. Despite his instincts screaming at him to play dumb and high-tail it out of there, Akira swivels around slowly to see Ann crouched next to the pool with a winning rubber duck in her hands. 

She’s avoided most of the damage, but both shoes and one blonde ponytail are more than a little damp. Ryuji and Akira watch totally frozen to the spot as Ann stands up to her full height cooly, handing over her prized duck without a single word. 

The marking on the bottom is a bright red, and a subtle dawning horror begins to creep over both boys. Horror because that red omen means Ann’s just won her pick of a grand prize. Out of at least one hundred perfectly identical rubber ducks, Ann Takamaki  _ would  _ draw the best option. 

Akira wants to be bitter, but he’s occupied, sharing a terrified look at Ryuji as the booth-owner hands over the massive water gun as per Ann’s request. 

“I'll give you both a ten second head start.” She isn't even looking at them, focus instead on methodically filling up her water gun. Ryuji steps backwards cautiously, taking a hold of Akira’s wrist to pull him backwards as well. 

“10.” Ann aims her newly loaded tool of liquid-fueled destruction, levelling it chest high. By the elated look in her eyes, it’s easy to tell she’s enjoying this. 

“6.” She pumps the water gun. The sound makes the terror  _ real.  _

Ryuji makes an affronted noise. “Hey! I think you skipped a couple numbers!”

“1!” Ann opens fire, cackling with glee. Akira flinches as the first spray of cold water hits him right in the face. In a way it’s actually a welcome relief, because Ryuji has taken ahold of his hand again, making Akira’s scalp prickling with the sudden onslaught of internal heat coursing through his body. 

If his hand is gross and sweaty Ryuji pays it no mind. They’re both stumbling around pedestrians in a wild and desperate attempt to escape from Ann’s attacks. Everything about the situation is ridiculous in the best way. Akira doesn’t even try to refrain from joining in on Ryuji’s exuberant laughter 

“You’re having fun!” Akira jokes, uncaring that the people around them probably think the three--four if you count Morgana--of them are completely out of their minds. 

Ryuji looks down at him, confirming Akira’s previous statement with a sunny smile despite having his shirt plastered to his back from the water. He looks genuinely happy and handsome and about a dozen of other adjectives that Akira can’t quite conjure up. Akira wishes his glasses weren’t slightly smudged so he could see it all better, and burn the images into his corneas. Today truly might be the best day of his life. 

That is until another cold jet of water hits him right in the back, nearly forcing him to jump a country mile out of his skin. He’ll bump the ranking down to  _ third _ best day of his life. 

They continue on running for their lives, laughing like idiots the entire way. At some point they manage to give Ann the slip, hiding in the shade of a few trees behind a building selling overpriced souvenirs. 

“Can this count as our weekly training?” Akira huffs, “The added fear makes the exercise count twice as much, right?” 

Ryuji laughs, but because he’s breathless it comes out a bit strained. “No it doesn’t. Should our leader be this lazy?”

“I’m not lazy! I train at Leblanc all the time!”

“Rolling in and out of bed doesn’t count as training.”

Akira makes a face then shakes his head aggressively, sending more water everywhere. The blonde yelps in indignation, and when Akira refuses to stop the former grabs at his arms to still him. A hysterical edge emerges in his voice when Ryuji playfully pushes him against the nearby wall. 

“Quit it punk!” he says, hands firm around Akira’s biceps but still loose enough that Akira could break free if he wanted to. Not that he does. Even though there’s a new, unfamiliar energy pulsing around them--or maybe because of that--Akira doesn’t want to move an inch. On the surface, all of the gestures are totally casual, but there’s a feeling of something  _ more  _ thrumming under the surface. 

“O-or what?” Akira asks shakily. Who can blame him when Ryuji’s face is coming closer and closer. Close enough to kiss--and yes Akira’s thinking about. So sue him. 

“You  _ really  _ wanna know?” Ryuji presses himself even closer, making Akira hyper-aware of every detail in the moment. His eyes dart from the trail of faint freckles smudged across Ryuji’s nose to the unreadable look in his eyes. And if Akira is to be honest with himself, he spends more than just a couple of moments totally focused on the other’s lips. 

The same lips that are like...millimeters away. Super close. Distractingly close. 

But before what seems to be happening--what  _ can’t  _ be happening--actually happens, they’re interrupted by a loud noise and a mighty deluge of water raining down on them. Akira peeks over Ryuji’s shoulder to find Ann standing there triumphantly. 

“Aha! Found you! …..oh,” her victorious looks fades away as she takes in what’s before her, only to be replaced with a slow, self-satisfied smirk. 

Akira wants to scream. 

  
  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


“Whew, my feet hurt,” Ann sighs as she plops down into a seat, cradling the water gun to her chest lovingly. “But I had a good time!”

With a grunt of relief, Ryuji settles down next to her. “You wouldn’t be as tired if you hadn’t chased us around with that thing like a maniac.”

“You should be honored that Lady Ann would ever spray you with her holy water!” Morgana cries out passionately. Akira can’t agree, but he’s sure Ann’s still got water in that thing so he says nothing and grabs hold of a hanging strap for balance just as the train begins to  slide into motion. 

“Huh? What are you doing?” Ryuji asks suddenly, looking confused. 

Akira feels similarly, “Standing?”

“Why? Just sit down.”

Akira looks around just to double check that, yeah, all the seats around are indeed taken. Is he supposed to mow down some random granny and take her seat? That might as well be illegal. 

“Are you telling me to just sit in some stranger’s lap--?”

“Didn’t know you two were into that kinda play,” Ann mumbles half under her breath, pretending to be absorbed in her phone.

Ryuji continues on nonplussed, “Not a stranger dumbass. C’mere.” And then he reaches out to pull Akira into his lap. The latter makes a shocked noise that turns into a full blown uhhh when he realizes exactly what’s happening. 

Absolutely no one, minus Ann (who is pretending not to care, but is vibrating with barely contained  _ glee)  _ and Morgana (who is grumbling in annoyance) finds their seating arrangement odd--or even pays attention to the two of them in the first place. The relaxed atmosphere makes the way Akira’s sitting up ramrod straight on the very edge of Ryuji’s knees even more noticable. And kinda hilarious. 

Ryuji, of course, seems to have no such reservations. He mumbles something about keeping Akira from falling and then tugs him backwards closer to his chest with a firm hold on Akira’s hips. The touch leaves ghost sensations like heat trails behind, and Akira really has to marvel at how  _ gay  _ he is. 

He can't lie though: he  _ is  _ more comfortable now that most of his gay terror has passed. Actually scratch that. The terror returns tenfold, because now Ryuji has a hand splayed flat against Akira's stomach in an effort to keep him balanced and upright. 

Akira marvels at how calm everyone else about this. A quick glance behind him confirms how utterly unbothered Ryuji is, chatting with Ann about god knows what while Akira loses his fucking mind. 

“Let’s take a picture!” Ann says cheerfully, thrusting her phone in front of all of them. “Shiho said she wants a picture of everyone!”

Dutifully the two boys--and Morgana--crowd into frame. Ryuji leans forward to rest his chin on Akira’s shoulder, whose smile takes a smitten, dopey slope to it. Ann snaps a handful of pictures, scrolling through them when she’s done. “I look like I’m third wheeling a date,” she grumbles. 

“Now you know how I feel all the time,” Morgana sighs. Akira feels a flush crawling up his neck. He’s seriously considering giving Morgana to Ann to keep. 

Ryuji rolls his eyes but leans over Ann’s shoulder to view the pictures for himself. He spends a long while observing them, smiling with a soft fondness Akira’s only seen here and there. It’s a glimpse of what Ryuji might have been if the world would have been kinder to him. 

“I know you’re having fun admiring my photography skills and all,” Ann states, breaking the contemplative silence, “But isn’t this your stop?” 

“ _ Shit!” _

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


Ann manages to mind her business for about five minutes after Ryuji leaves. To her credit she plays it cooll, pretending to absorbed in a game on her phone while the seconds tick by. It’s a war of attrition: whoever cracks first loses. 

Finally she snaps and grabs the collar of Akira’s still slightly damp shirt, “Did you two  _ kiss?” _

“What?” Akira blurts out, just a tad too loud. “ _ No.” _

“Well were you about to?”

“No…?” But he’s not that confident in his answer. There’s no telling what would have happened if Ann hadn’t shown up. Akira still can’t decide how upset he should be at that interruption. Over and over he replays the way Ryuji smiled at him as he pushed him back-flat against the wall, laughing deep in his throat as he wrapped warm hands around Akira’s upper arms. “Why is having a crush so  _ hard,”  _ he wails, slumping down into his seat. 

Ann, as usual, has minimum sympathy. “It wouldn’t  _ be  _ this hard if you would just tell him how you feel!”

“That’s what I said. But of course he didn’t listen to me.” Morgana makes his voice deeper in an awful impersonation of Akira. “‘I don’t know if he likes me~.’ and ‘What’s the point of confesses if he doesn’t like me back~?’.”

“... _ What?”  _ Ann asks, staring at Akira with narrowed eyes. She looks like he’s just used her favorite jacket as a napkin. 

“What? What did I do?” If anything she needs to be upset at Morgana’s awful impersonation of him. His voice isn’t  _ that  _ whiny. 

Slowly, and oh so tiredly Ann continues to squint at Akira. “Are you  _ seriously  _ doubting if that idiot likes you? You’re together  _ all the time.  _ You breathe and Ryuji acts like you’ve just discovered water. Ugh, I wish at least one of you would get it together. It’s bad enough that I had to give Ryuji the same exact--”

Ann cuts herself off, biting her lip to keep quiet, but she’s implied more than enough. Akira’s head snaps up so fast a bone in his neck pops audibly. In the time it takes for him to blink once in confusion, a flood of questions have gathered in mind, threatening to burst free. 

“Are you--?”

“No. No. No. I’m not telling you--”

“But no, seriously. What--?”

“I can’t tell you,” she huffs, crossing her arms sternly. “I can’t break patient-doctor confidentiality.” 

Akira can’t help but to laugh, even though he’s incredibly offended that Ann’s playing both sides of the field  _ and  _ keeping information to herself. He guesses that’s the decent and admirable thing to do, but he needs some fucking help here. And maybe a kiss or two. 

By now Akira knows better than to try to out stubborn Ann….at least not now. So he settles for running his hands down his face as dramatically as possible. “This is so  _ haaaarddd.” _

Ann sprays him in the face twice with the water gun, “It wouldn’t be if you weren’t such an idiot.”

She has a point. 

  
  


**6/11**

  
  


By all accounts it’s a perfect summer night. The heat of the day has shifted from humid and sticky, turning the whole city into a pressure cooker, to a comforting albeit heavy kind of warmth. Cicadas are screaming in the trees, the noise only slightly muted by the sounds of Yongen-Jaya winding down for the night. 

It truly  _ feels  _ like summer, doubly so that they’re all stuffed from their celebratory hotpot. Akira knows the dangers of getting too used to things (like that time he managed to forget about the security lasers in Madarame’s Palace, and promptly set off three back-to-back signaling the attention of no less than seven Shadows), but he can’t help but to relax in this rare moment of peace. 

Even Yusuke is visibly pleased, more than just one smile has broken the surface of his even and calm demeanor tonight. Morgana’s been purring in contentment for some time now, and Ann too parted ways earlier in high spirits. The only person not riding sky high tonight is Ryuji. 

If Akira didn’t know better he’d say Ryuji was...sulking? It’s hard to be sure, considering Ryuji’s walking in front of him and Yusuke both, but there’s something about the way he’s dragging his feet as he shuffles along that just screams despondent.

The final and most damning piece of evidence comes in the form of Ryuji sighing deeply and morosely. “This sucks,” he groans to himself. 

Mystery solved. He’s  _ definitely  _ sulking. 

“Something seems to be...off with Ryuji,” Yusuke points out quietly, shielding his mouth with his hand so they can’t be overheard. He watches the way Ryuji kicks at a loose rock sullenly, looking particularly concerned. Knowing Ryuji--and his, admittedly endearing, habit of getting upset over the most random of things--Yusuke’s level of concern is probably unwarranted, but Akira’s still a bit touched. 

“I’ve noticed,” Akira whispers back, “I dunno what’s wrong though.”

“He’ll go back to normal if we ignore him,” Morgana meows, not quiet at  _ all.  _

Yusuke continues to frown, “Ah. I figured you would know the cause. After all, you two are--” Here he makes a complicated gesture that Akira guesses is meant to mean something significant _.  _

“We’re...what?” 

This time the complicated gesture comes with an equally complicated facial expression, and Akira is no closer to figuring out what Yusuke is even trying to convey. He has an inkling of what it  _ could  _ mean, but Akira has enough mystery in his life trying to understand one of his friends. 

It dawns on Akira then that pretty much all of his teammates are weirdos in their own right. Reigning Weirdo Supreme is currently dragging himself through the tiny walkway leading to the bathhouse, as the Lesser Weirdos trail behind. 

As they enter Yusuke keeps glancing between Akira and Ryuji pointedly, the latter sulking off past them towards the changing room. The message  _ This is your problem  _ couldn’t be better conveyed. 

Now it’s Akira’s turn to sigh. If he’s gonna get down to the bottom of this he might as well do it now while they have some semblance of privacy. And before Ryuji’s weird mood seeps into the bath water. 

Here goes nothing. 

Akira comes up behind Ryuji and kicks him right in the back. Not  _ hard.  _ It’s more of a nudge than anything, but it definitely gets Ryuji’s attention. 

“Ow--! What the hell!” Immediately Ryuji’s whirling around with an indignant expression that shifts only slightly when he sees it’s Akira that’s kicked him. “What the hell was that for?” 

“What’s wrong with you? And don’t say it’s nothing.” Akira begins the interrogation immediately, getting right in Ryuji’s face. 

The other looks appropriately taken aback for a moment, but quickly the shock fades into a more closed off expression. “Nothing’s…” He pauses and glances down at Akira who’s burning a hole in his face with his eyes. “D-don’t worry about it. Let’s just bathe, okay?”

He begins to turn away, already tugging up his shirt. Akira doesn’t let him get far, and he forces Ryuji’s shirt back down to an acceptable level. It’s a clear sign Akira has absolutely no intentions of backing down, but it’s also a means to keep the visual of Ryuji’s toned stomach (and equally offending faint trail of hair leading to you-know-where) officially out of sight and out of mind. 

“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s wrong, and that’s final.” Akira keeps his hands tight on the hem of Akira’s shirt as he says it. Ryuji looks like he’s searching for some kind of escape route, but every time he tries to turn away Akira follows into his field of vision. 

After the fourth or fifth time of being blocked by Akira’s persistently concerned face, Ryuji appears to give up on running. His expression turns even more sulky, with just a hint of embarrassment.

“Ugh, don’t laugh alright?”

“No promises,” Akira says casually, waving Ryuji to get a move on when he sputters to a stop when Akira doesn’t immediately acquiesce.

Akira doesn’t mean to come off as impatient as he does, but all the waiting has him on edge; he’s half expecting some kind of radical confession like an admission that Ryuji has been taking the place of his hidden twin brother. Or that he’s been engaged for 10 years to someone his family picked out. 

They’re both far-fetched ideas, but Akira can’t help his overactive imagination, which makes it even more important that Ryuji spill whatever’s on his chest before Akira’s head explodes 

Speaking of exploding heads, Ryuji’s cheeks are slowly turning red as he stubbornly looks  _ just  _ above Akira’s head to avoid full on eye contact. “Well, I was just thinking about how much it sucks that I can’t sleep over with you an’ Yusuke. Out of all the times for my mom to need me at home...not that I  _ mind.  _ It’s just the timing--”

Akira can’t help himself, a laugh bubbles up from his throat before he can even think to stop himself. 

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna laugh!”

“Sorry, sorry. That’s just so  _ cute.”  _ Akira watches as Ryuji’s face twists up in mock offense at the word ‘cute’. But there’s really no better way to describe the current situation. His cheeks burn with the effort of trying to not grin like an idiot as he says, “You know you can spend the night whenever you want, right? If Yusuke’s still crashing at Leblanc you’ll have to bring your own futon though.”

“Can do.” And just like that almost all of the tension seeps out of Ryuji’s stance, and when he smiles it’s one full of this soft sort of boyish charm. 

If Akira were a better person and less chaotic friend he would let the conversation go, and the two of them can move on to doing what they actually came there for. But he’s not. He blames Ann; her ways have rubbed off on him. 

“I still can’t believe you got all sulky over  _ that,”  _ he teases. 

“I did not!” Ryuji contests loudly, nearly getting killing himself in his haste to look Akira’s way while simultaneously trying to strip out of his t-shirt. 

“You totally did!” Akira’s full on cackling as he practically jumps on Ryuji’s back when the other refused to face his teasing head on. They’re acting like children, but as usual Akira can’t bring himself to care. From what little he can see of Ryuji’s face--which isn’t much, just a sliver of his profile--Akira can tell he’s smiling happily. And that’s enough for that familiar, addictive fluttery feeling in his stomach to return tenfold. 

“Ahem.”

With Akira still precariously draped across his back, they turn to find Yusuke standing at the other end of the changing area, closest to the bath entrance. He’s already prepared to make his way to the bath, totally unlike the two of them. Morgana’s sitting at his feet, squinting tiredly at their antics. 

“Oh,” Yusuke says softly. “Sorry for the interruption. We didn’t know you were busy.”

“Busy being idiots,” Morgana grumbles. 

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  


“Pardon the intrusion,” Yusuke announces politely as he climbs the remaining steps into Akira’s attic-turned room. All the hotpot fixings have been removed, clearing up a wide berth of floor space where Akira is currently sitting cross legged. 

Morgana hops down from the bed, stretching as he regards Yusuke, “Don’t mention it! It’s imperative that we look out for everyone on the team!”

“Too bad there’s no futon here for you. I don’t think Sojiro ever expected for me to have company,” Akira says. He feels a bit bad because the couch in his room isn’t the biggest, especially considering Yusuke’s at  _ least _ 180cm. 

Yusuke doesn’t look particularly uncomfortable, just arranges the blankets Akira gives him into a cocoon like bundle of cotton and down feathers. “You’ve done more than enough. I am truly in your debt. Ryuji’s as well; he expressed no ill content when I asked if he minded that I stay over.”

“You asked Ryuji that?” Akira blinks owlishly behind his glasses, “Why?”

Equally as confused, Yusuke furrows his brows as if he were mentally figuring out a complicated problem. “You two are dating are you not?”

“No we’re not,” Akira denies patiently. Where Yusuke keeps getting the idea that they are is beyond him: Yusuke’s probably the last person expected to be into gossip. 

“Oh.” Yusuke rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Then do you want to? Because Takamaki-san and Morgana both were telling me information along those lines.”

Of course they would. Akira was right in assuming Yusuke wouldn’t stir up gossip on their own, but he didn’t quite consider the possibility that their aloof artist would get  _ dragged  _ into it. Which is exactly what happened. “

Ruefully, Akira glares at Morgana who has managed to “fall asleep” against his leg in the matter of seconds. If it wasn’t a rare moment of adorable skinship between the two of them Akira would be more inclined to jiggle the leg Morgana’s currently lying against out of spite.

“I guess you could say I want to--”

“Understatement of the year,” Morgana interrupts, eyes still closed as he grumbles. “The two of you have dragged this whole thing on for what feels like years.”

This time Akira  _ does  _ shake the leg Morgana was using as a pillow. Cuteness be damned. The cat meows, affronted. Serves him right. 

“Why are even talking about this?” Akira huffs, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “Just because we’re having a sleepover that doesn’t mean I have to dish out the details of my personal life.”

“From what I was told from classmates, it seems that sleepovers are precisely the place to discuss such things,” Yusuke points out. Akira can’t even be mad at the other poking holes in his argument. It’s obvious that Yusuke means no harm in it--he’s just  _ that  _ straight-forward. And that’s just part of his charm. His  _ appeal.  _

Conversely, Morgana means nothing but harm. Preferably Akira’s. The smug cat rolls over and bats a paw at Akira. “Yeah, you heard him! Now get to spilling everything!”

“It doesn’t  _ have  _ to be me. Who do you like, Yusuke?”

Yusuke actually thinks about it, his gaze wandering up to the ceiling as he ponders. “No one,” he settles on finally. “I’ve spent most of my time lately painting.”

Of course he has. Akira sighs as two pairs of eyes begin to stare at him expectantly. It’s sad that  _ he’s  _ the one with the most interesting personal life, when all he does is stare at the guy he has a crush on and occasionally make a fool out of himself… It’s more than just occasionally, but that’s just semantics at this point. 

They might want juicy gossip, but Akira refuses to budge. “Well, the two of you are still out of luck because I have nothing good to tell you. I have a crush, yes, but I don’t plan on doing anything about it anytime soon. We have the Metaverse to worry about, and on top of that I don’t know how he feels.” It’s sound logic, he thinks. 

“This again,” Morgana groans dismissively. 

“I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds.” At the sound of Yusuke’s voice, Akira glances up to find the other looking particularly thoughtful. “But...isn’t that just an excuse?”

Akira chokes on air even as Morgana begins to laugh raucously. Now even  _ Yusuke  _ is dragging him. Solemnly, Akira stands up and heads towards the stairs, stepping over a recovering Morgana who makes an inquisitive noise. 

“Eh? Where are you going?”    


“Ichigaya,” Akira replies grimly. “I’m going to throw myself into the river. Maybe the fishes will let me keep my dignity.”

“I doubt it.”

And that has Yusuke chuckling to himself, and the amusement of his friend is enough for Akira to not run out of there screaming. For now at least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so in the ages i haven't updated i finished my senior project, graduated, lost all motivation to do anything creative, and then bounced back. but i've never stopped thinking about this fic! i'm super sorry abt the wait but i literally love the amusement park scene and it took FOREVER. this also features my random but loved hc that yusuke really will read you without even trying. the next chapter is the beginning of the real ~crucial~ parts and maybe, just maybe some conflict. but it'll be fun. i promise. if the trend of chapters getting exponentially longer each and every time continues this next update might be 33k or something! oh and thanks to everyone who's left kudos and comments ya'll have been so nice and sweet! if i weren't so dehydrated i would shed a tear!


	7. La Blessure Chanceuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akira orders a fresh cup of courage off amazon, shiho spills the beans, ann might have a crush, and morgana weilds his claws for justice....and tuna....but mostly justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing summaries for chapters is a lot harder than i expected. maybe it's the fact that i'm updating at 3 am AGAIN... anyways! i'm back with 8.7k of......akiryu playing the 'how many times can i touch you in a questionably platonic ways before u realize i might like u?'

**6/12**

  
  
  


Mika glides away, whisking away the photography team away with her. Even while playing the victim, her walk is near perfect in her heeled boots. 

“I really screwed that up…” Ann sighs, as the finality of their defeat sinks in. Her tone is solemn, but when Akira takes a good look at her, he finds that she still looks more determined than disappointed. 

It makes Akira more than just a little proud. “She was amazing, huh?” he asks seriously. Mika played everyone in the vicinity like a fiddle, and it’s impossible to ignore that it was some damn near flawless acting. 

Ann casts her gaze in the direction Mika disappeared to, “Yeah…” she agrees, voice quiet. 

To combat the sombering mood (and to sate his own blossoming curiosity) Akira stands up on the tips of his toes so that he’s close enough to Ann’s height to mock-whisper behind his hand, “Is she your type? Because I’ve been wondering if you have a thing for kinda bossy girls, especially considering your reaction to Nijima-san.”

Akira doesn’t even have time to retreat to a safe distance away before he’s being jabbed right in the tender part of ribs. “I’m sorry what were you saying? Couldn’t quite hear you.” Ann looks down at Akira with faux concern. He shakes his head no as he doubles over, protecting himself from further attacks. “It’s just amazing that she could see that deep down, maybe I’m not that invested in modelling. She’s on a totally different level than me…”

“Even her fake crying had grace,” Akira says, rubbing gently at the still throbbing spot on his side. 

“Exactly! Maybe that’s what I’m missing!” Ann nods, suddenly motivated. Right before his eyes, Akira watches as Ann banishes all of her negative feelings with a smile. “I’ll turn my failure here as positive energy going forward! And I can use this time now to go see Shiho!”

Ann’s excitement is contagious, and Akira finds himself smiling fondly as well. “Tell her I said hi!” He figures they’ll be splitting ways here, and is already on the lookout for Morgana so that he can head back to Leblanc and neglect his homework. 

So he’s surprised when Ann regards him seriously, “Why don’t you just come with me?”

“I can do that?” 

“Yeah?” She tilts her head, confused at Akira’s confusion, “Is there a reason why you couldn’t?”

“Not that I  _ couldn’t.”  _ For a moment Akira struggles to find the right words. “Me and Shiho haven’t really talked outside of the context of, you know, being ostracized by our peers, so I had never thought you’d invite me to go with you.”

Shiho is Ann’s best friend. Going to talk to her seriously is the friendship equivalent of meeting the parents. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Ann says breezily, linking arms with Akira. “She’s heard a lot about you! I’ve been keeping her updated on things happening around Shujin!”

Akira allows himself to be steered towards the nearest station, but he’s wary. It’s clear in his tone, “Don’t tell me you’ve been gossiping about me…”

“Of course I have! That’s the whole point of having friends! Duh!”

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  


Akira almost doesn’t recognize Shiho when they find her in a waiting room on the sixth floor. She looks happier and healthier than he’s ever seen. Gone are all of the bruises from before, the only indication of any previous injury is the brace on her leg. 

Seeing her there alive, smiling softly when Ann barrels into her for a welcoming hug, really drives home that, despite a good 70% of the general public thinking they were simply heart-stealing goblins, the Phantom Thieves really have done some good. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” Shiho says, still smiling as she pulls back from her best friend’s embrace. “I thought you had a shoot today.”

“Yeah… well that shoot was kinda stolen from me…” Ann says casually. “But I'll tell you the full story later! In the meanwhile I wanted to formally introduce you to the main source of all my problems as of late.”

Akira cuts Ann an unamused glance, but steps closer to bow politely. 

Would it kill someone to give him a compliment or two? Yeah, Ann has to bail him out of situations every now and then--like last week when he got stuck in that tree near the gym trying to get down the soccer ball Ryuji got jammed up there trying to dribble with his head. 

Not that she  _ helped  _ in a traditional sense _ ,  _ just poked Akira with a branch and then practically pushed him off when she got tired of trying to direct his journey back onto solid ground. 

Hitting the ground ass first hurt a bit, but it was worth it if only to see Ryuji laugh so hard he cried. 

“If you ask me the main source of your problem is your grades,” Akira mutters sulkily under his breath. Shiho hides a noise of amusement behind her hand, disguising her agreement with an obviously fake cough. 

Of course Ann doesn’t hear or see it. She’s too busy cracking her knuckles menacingly and sizing Akira up. “What was that? We’re in a hospital you know. I can beat you up as much as I want.”

“Don’t break anything important!” Morgana cries as Ann advances on Akira. “He promised to buy me fish next week! I can’t have my tuna if both his legs are broken!” Typical Mona. But apparently it’s enough to save all of his limbs, because his attacker turns away with one final glare. 

Shiho continues to smile at their antics, “It’s good to see that the two of you get along so well. Thank you for taking care of my friend.”

_ Threats of having all your extremities broken is getting along?  _ Is what Akira  _ almost  _ says, but Shiho’s looking up at him with so much sincerity he can’t find it in himself to crack a joke. “I think it’s the other way around,” Akira admits instead. “Despite the threats of physical violence she’s really helped me a lot.”

“I’ve heard.” Shiho leans back in the oddly patterned, padded chair, a familiar mischievous glimmer appearing in her eyes that suddenly makes it  _ very  _ clear why she and Ann managed to be so close for so long. “You and Ryuji…?”

“You told her?” Akira’s ear burn  _ hot.  _

Ann doesn’t even have the decency to look chastised, “Of course I did! What other relevant gossip are you involved in? And I need somebody to complain to when I’m stuck between two idiots complaining and pining over each other!” 

Minor breach of his privacy aside, Akira latches onto the phrase “pining over each other”. He still hasn’t forgotten what Ann mistakenly revealed the other day on the train, and this is just another miniscule hint of the bigger picture. 

Unfortunately, Ann also remembers. Before Akira can even open his mouth she’s shutting him down. “I’m not telling you anything!”

“I didn’t even ask!” Akira protests, feigning innocence. He knows by now that Ann would rather be hit by three consecutive Bufulas than let him take the easy way out when it comes to things crush related. He turns to Shiho hopefully. There’s a chance she might take mercy on him. 

“Sorry, Kusuru-kun,” Shiho places a gentle, sympathetic hand on his elbow, only the tiny hint of a smile hinting at how much fun she’s having at Akira’s expense. “Ann made me promise not to tell you anything!”

Of course she did. Akira’s seriously considering uninviting Ann to his future wedding. Which, at the rate Akira's love life is progressing, will happen when he's 65. 

Just then a friendly looking nurse comes into the waiting area to call Shiho to her physical therapy appointment. With virtually no difficulty at all Shiho stands up on her crutches while Ann dutifully collects the rest of her things. 

Akira takes this as his cue to leave, waving goodbye to the girls as he makes his way to the elevator. The fancy stainless steel lift arrives with a  _ ding,  _ but before Akira can step on Shiho speaks again. 

“Don't worry too much about things,” she says, grinning broadly. “From what I’ve heard you might end up getting confessed to soon!”

For a moment Akira’s taken back by just how bright Shiho seems to shine as she smiles. So taken aback that it takes a long moment for her words to process. But they do. 

“Shiho!” Ann admonishes, as Akira stands there dumbfounded. 

“Oh, was that giving away too much?”

  
  
  


**6/13**

  
  


“Booooooooooooooo,” Ann jeers again, pelting sunflower seeds at a repentant Ryuji. They’re standing outside of the diner, Yusuke already headed home, to talk about the mess today has been. (Technically she’s littering, but a few birds have already flocked around them to peck at the fallen seeds.) Morgana’s meowing encouragements to throw even more seeds, or even to upgrade to rocks. 

Akira’s standing off to the side and Ryuji comes up to him to beg for forgiveness. “How was I supposed to know the Student Council President would be listening in to what I was saying? C’mon man, don’t be mad. You’re not mad, right?” 

He’s holding Akira by the elbows, voice getting louder with each plea. In all honesty Akira’s not mad. The situation they’re in isn’t ideal, but considering how totally conspicuous of a group they are both at Shujin and just around the city, it’s not a surprise that they’ve amassed some suspicion. 

So Akira pries his hands away from Ryuji’s desperate grip to reach up and squish the blonde’s cheeks. “Of course I’m not mad,” he states, trying to put as much sincerity as possible into his voice. “How could I be mad at a face like this?” To prove a point Akira squishes Ryuji’s cheeks some more. 

Instead of shaking off the touch, Ryuji just closes his eyes and leans into it. Kinda like petting a Shiba Inu or maybe a Doberman. It’s cute. Really cute. 

Akira wants to coo at the cute display, but refrains himself if only because Ann wouldn’t let him live it down. He idly wonders if there’s such a thing as platonic flirting. Because they’ve been doing it a lot. Flirting, which may or not be platonic. 

The pelting of the sunflower seeds resumes at their display. “What  _ do _ you feel looking at that face?” Ann asks, obviously baiting Akira to say something sappy or stupid or both. 

Solemnly Akira turns back to Ryuji, looking up at him with a look of pointed seriousness. It might be a trick of the light (or wishful thinking), but Akira can swear he sees Ryuji swallow nervously as they make eye contact. 

“I feel…..nausea.” 

Ann laughs so hard and suddenly that she nearly chokes, and Ryuji tries to headbutt him. But he’s smiling, most of the tension gone from his shoulders. 

With a final cough Ann collects herself. She doesn’t look as upset anymore, but she still places her hands on her hips as she admonishes them both one more time. “Anyways, do us all a favor and keep your mouth shut about  _ business  _ things in public okay? And no phone calls either! We don’t need another Nijima-senpai on our back, no matter how cute she is.”

Simultaneously Ryuji look at each other and then back at Ann. “No matter how what she is?” Ryuji teases. 

“Cunning,” Ann replies breezily, already walking past them to head home. “I said cunning.”    

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**6/25**

  
  
  
  


Kaneshiro’s Palace is, quite frankly, annoying as hell. None of the other Palaces were walks in the park per se, but something about this go around feels particularly draining. It might be all of the trouble that it took to get them here. Or all of the locked doors. Or all of the security cameras someone is always setting off (Morgana) in their haste to not be ambushed by Shadows someone keeps provoking accidently (Ryuji). 

Or maybe Akira’s still bitter that some drunk weirdo in Shinjuku spilled a brightly covered drink all over his favorite pair of sneakers. Akira doesn’t know if the guy was trying to hit him up or steal his wallet, but either way he didn’t appreciate having to scrub the unidentifiable pink liquid away. 

Though the road to the Palace was a difficult one, there’s at least a sense that they’re on the right track as the second of the two security Shadows disappear, leaving the Left Key  _ and  _ a map behind to be pillaged. 

They’re perusing the map now. Ryuji forgetting what personal space is for the utmost time as he peers over Akira’s shoulder. “How’s it look? You see where the Treasure is?” 

Akira ignores--with a surprising amount of success--the gloved hand that comes up to rest on his shoulder, right at the sensitive juncture of his shoulder and neck. Regardless, he still doesn’t have an answer; reading maps quickly isn’t really his specialty. 

“Well, the most suspicious area would be the deepest part…” Morgana squints, scanning the map thoughtfully. Something in particular catches his eye, and he leaps into the air excitedly. “Aha! Look here. There’s an elevator that leads down, the Treasure’s got to be that way!”

“Good we’ll head that way,” Akira stretches, wincing slightly when the place that Shadow got him good in the side throbs a bit. “Later. I’m beat, and we’re out of medicine.” They’ve been at it for a while, and he can tell that everyone’s almost Agi’d, Bufu’d, Garu’d, Zio’d, or Frei’d out. And in Akira’s case all of the above. 

“We’re out of 1ups too!” Ann wiggles the last empty can in Akira’s face who takes it mournfully. All twenty or so soft drinks Akira had lovingly stocked up over the week gone in a single Metaverse run.

They all file out of the room, Akira and Makoto taking up the rear, the former nagging them all for hogging all the drinks. Yusuke at least has the decency to pretend to listen. Ann and Ryuji don’t even try. 

Retracing their steps takes a lot less time now that they don’t have to sneak around each and every corner. The hazy field of the Safe Room is just coming into view when Yusuke stops short with a gasp. “Joker! The chest!”

Akira skids to a halt, nearly colliding into Yusuke’s back, “The what? Oh! The chest!” Three pairs of eyes watch curiously as Akira rummages through his pockets, finally brandishing a lockpick with a triumphant noise.

“What...is going on?” Ann asks dubiously. Even through her mask, Akira can picture her eyebrows quirked in suspicion. 

“I'll tell you what's going on,” Akira hefts the lockpick as if it were the solution to all of their problems, “The  _ one  _ time I forget to bring a lockpick the other day is the  _ one  _ time we find a locked chest. And this baby here is gonna unlock that damn thing!”

Morgana and Yusuke, fellow avid treasure enthusiasts, nod in understanding, but Ann remains unmoved. She opens her mouth to say something, probably to berate him for thinking more about a fancy item rather than avoiding jail time, but gives up with a sigh. “Do whatever you want. Just hurry up! I'm hungry!”

“Yeah, yeah. Mona! Fox! You're with me! The rest of you head back to the Safe Room we'll meet you there in five!”

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  
  
  


Three minutes later Akira's trio is jogging back towards the safe room, fancy new sword already in Yusuke’s possession. The whole excursion went by without a hitch; the benefits of clearing the area of Shadows paid off in the end. 

It’s a straight shot towards the safe room, and just as soon as things are going well enough for Akira to let his guard down just a bit, suddenly they’re not. 

When a Shadow manifests out of thin air, there’s a moment before it happens when you just  _ know.  _ Like that millisecond of time right before you fall. Where the world’s suddenly at an angle, rushing towards you way too fast, and you have just enough time to think  _ oh shit.  _

Just like that, only magnified by a million. 

This time the Shadow appears in a puff of purple smoke, right in front of them and blocking any means of a clean escape. Not that the Shadow’s giving them that choice. It advances on Akira without hesitation, swiping at him with a clawed paw. 

Good news: Akira manages to parry the brunt of the attack on the blade of his knife. A flashy move, requiring just as much luck as it does skill. Most importantly the defensive move keeps all of his organs in his body where they belong. The bad news is that the force still sends Akira tumbling backwards. 

“You alright, Joker?” Morgana calls out, not really waiting for an answer as he rushes up to confront the Shadow alongside Yusuke. Akira gives them both a slightly winded thumbs up, which he quickly takes back when the Shadow turns in Yusuke’s direction, crouching over as it prepares a spell. 

_ Please don’t be fire. Please don’t be fire  _ Akira thinks to himself as he climbs back to his feet. But it’s too late for wishful thinking, Akira can already see the beginnings of an Agilao forming in the Shadow’s mouth. It hits poor Yusuke square in the chest and he goes down with a heavy thud. 

Before the Shadow can follow up with another attack Morgana steps in. “Looks like it’s up to me to save the day! Witness my resolve!” Zorro materializes behind him, slashing a familiar  _ Z  _ in the air. 

A bright red boxing glove appears moments later, and that definitely has Akira on his feet now, rushing forward to rejoin the other two and do damage control. Lucky Punch doesn’t always land when needed most, and the last thing Akira wants is for the three of them to get sliced and diced before backup can come. 

The Shadow takes note of the cartoony fist heading its way at the last possible second, leaping to the side to avoid the attack. 

“Could things get any worse,” Akira grumbles to himself. He can hear the others tumbling out of the safe room headed towards them, but that thing is stalking towards Morgana  _ now.  _ The last Revival Bead is long gone, and Akira’s certain hauling a knocked out cat around Tokyo is technically animal cruelty. 

So Akira springs into action, diving in the Shadow’s path as it lunges, scooping up Morgana as he goes. Akira rolls gracefully back to his feet, and draws his gun. Without hesitation he unloads the rest of his bullets into the thing. 

It staggers, and with just a bit of malice he rips off his mask summoning a Persona to end this once and for all. He had  _ planned  _ on saving the rest of his energy for one last group heal, but oh fucking well. 

The Persona Akira summons is a new one--a strange one. Igor had smiled cryptically and mentioned something about it belonging to another story. Izanagi he called it. Whatever “story” that was Igor wasn’t keen on telling, and Akira could respect that. 

When the creepy, mysterious old man with a foot long nose that oversees the literal execution of fragments of your soul decides to keep a secret, you let him. 

Back in the present, Izanagi appears brandishing his giant Akira-sized sword. The Persona’s eyes glow bright, before the raw power of a Zionga comes arcing down with a loud noise. The Shadow dissipates with a wounded noise, and Izanagi fades back to whatever sea of unconscious everyone in the Velvet Room won’t shut up about. 

It might be all in his imagination, but Akira swears he catches a feeling of...pride almost from the Persona. Like it was pleased to have been able to strike the killing blow. Weird. 

Akira doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, several pairs of thundering footsteps are headed their way.  “We’re here as backup-- Oh it’s over?” Ryuji skids to a stop, and glances at the slightly charred spot on the floor. “Guess it wasn’t that serious?”

“Not serious my butt!” Morgana hisses, tail sticking straight up in rage. “I could’ve died just now!”

“You’re welcome for the save by the way--” Akira retorts breezily, taking a step towards Yusuke where he’s sitting up to pat at the still smoking parts of his suit. However the moment he puts his weight on his left leg, a searing pain sends him to the floor. “Ow-ow-ow-ow!!!!” 

Instantly Makoto is at his side, “Are you okay...oh...no you’re not. Not at all.” She kneels where Akira is currently inspecting a nasty gash on his ankle. It’s pretty deep, and not particularly pleasant to look at. “I guess it's true that no good deed goes unpunished. Skull?”

Hearing his name the blonde jerks to attention, tearing his eyes from where he’d been watching over Akira with a near palpable concern. “Yeah?” 

“Can you go get Panther for me? She might have enough energy to heal this.”

He hesitates, visibly torn between hovering intensely and doing what Makoto said. Finally, Ryuji nods once before taking off where Ann was helping put out Yusuke. 

Makoto watches him run off with a funny smile on her face. “He’s concerned about you,” she tells Akira quietly. 

“Yeah?” Akira frowns, unsure of what’s so amusing. Now that the adrenaline of battle has all but faded, the throbbing pain of his ankle is taking the majority of his brain power. “Who wouldn’t be? I think you can see bone.”

“You’re missing the point,” Makoto sighs. But she doesn’t elaborate. Akra doesn’t even bother to ask. He isn’t too sure he’s ready for the answer. 

Moments later Ryuji’s rushing back to Akira’s side to hover yet again. You’d think Akira’s been split in half with the amount of worry he’s displaying. Akira finds it endearing, but Ann shoots Ryuji an exasperated look as she crouches near their prone leader. 

“Oh gross,” she mutters, checking the wound.

Akira can  _ feel  _ her eyes boring a hole in the side of his face. “Don’t even say it,” he says sulkily. He needs a lecture on his compulsive need to open each and every chest like he needs a gash in his leg. Well,  _ another  _ gash in his leg.

“Someone has to keep you in line,” Ann grumbles. With eyes averted from the wound, Ann places a hand on Akira’s leg. Soothing, shimmering green light emanates from her hand, and before their eyes the skin knits itself back together. 

In moments Akira’s leg is as good as new. If only a bit red a swollen where the initial injury was. Carefully, he attempts to climb to his feet. Like before the moment he places any weight on his right leg, a sharp pain goes through him and sends him off balance. 

He wobbles on his one fully functioning leg, but fortunately Ryuji’s there. In a fraction of a second he’s got an arm around Akira, shifting the bulk of the other’s weight on his shoulder. 

If Akira weren’t so focused on breathing through the fresh new wave of pain from his ankle--oh who is he fooling. He can’t feel a fucking thing beyond the warm arm holding him against a similarly warm body. Which is very nice. Nicer than nice. Nice to the twentieth degree.

“This may not be something we can heal here,” Morgana says seriously, peering at Akira’s ankle with as much worry as Morgana can muster. “But it’s not safe here. Skull! Use your brainless brawn and help get Joker out of here!”

“I’m not brainless…” Ryuji mutters under his breath, but he still leans over so Akira can hop on his back. He flashes Akira a reassuring smile, “Your chariot awaits!”

Ironically the actual brainless one is Akira right now, like some kind idiot he stares at Ryuji--what he’s offering--as if he heard something wrong. “Was that pun intended, or not?” he asks, stalling for all of his brain to catch up with reality. 

“Does it matter? Just get on! I look stupid squattin’ here like this!” 

Hesitating one more time Akira shyly limps forward to place steadying hands on Ryuji’s shoulders before effectively throwing himself on the other’s back. “Y-you’re not gonna drop me are you? Because I’m fine with limping home, seriously.”

Ryuji just laughs. It’s a cliche, but feeling Ryuji’s laughter through his back has Akira’s heart skipping a beat. At this point Akira’s disappointed in his own damn self.  

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get you to Yongen-Jaya in one piece.”

  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  
  


True to Ryuji’s word he gets Akira home in one piece. 

He carries Akira on his back all the way to the train station, then all the way to LeBlanc. Never does he show any sign of being tired, and Akira knows he isn’t the lightest. Yusuke even offered to give Ryuji a break in the second stint of their transmute home, but Ryuji just readjusted the steadying hold he had on Akira’s thighs and kept chugging along. 

As noble as all of that is, Akira spends the whole time flushing varying shades of red. Both from all of the unwanted attention they’re attracting as a group, and just from the feeling of Ryuji’s body shifting underneath his hands. He had to bite his tongue to not blurt out something stupid like how being on Ryuji’s back felt firm and safe like a limousine.

It isn’t until the bell chimes over the door that Akira realizes they haven’t come up with an excuse for his injury. “Welcome back,” Sojiro calls out without looking up from his crossword puzzle. When he does his expression shifts when he notices that the whole gang's together and has a new addition. “Another hotpot so soon?”

“Can we?” Yusuke asks, eyes lighting up at the mere mention of food. 

“That’s not what we’re here for,” Ann admonishes, gently thumping Yusuke in the back of the head. She sends a we-are-totally-not-up-to-something-so-please-do-not-get-suspicious-of-us smile at Sojiro as she explains. “We think Akira sprained his ankle, and we wanted to bring him home.”

For as much as Sojiro claimed he wasn’t intending on being a guardian, the sharp calculating gaze he sends towards Akira’s ankle screams fatherly. He frowns a bit, and all six of them seem to tense in anticipation for questions they can’t answer truthfully. 

But instead of an interrogation, Sojiro just sighs, “I won’t even ask what happened. I shouldn’t be surprised after I caught you hanging from the rafters in the attic.” All eyes turn to him in question. 

“I was exercising!” Akira protests. He doesn’t just hang there for fun, even though it kinda is. Sojiro raises a skeptical eyebrow, shooing them out of the way with a reminder to put ice on Akira’s ankle. 

One near mishap on the stairs later, they’re all upstairs and Akira is finally sliding off Ryuji’s back to hobble the few remaining feet to his bed. For the first time in half an hour Akira feels as though he can breathe clearly without all of Ryuji’s….Ryujiness clouding his senses. 

“I guess we should be thankful for Akira’s general weirdness,” Makoto says, poking a grumbling Akira so that he stretches out for her to examine his leg, “That’s the best excuse for any injuries.”

She begins to prod at the injured ankle, ignoring all of Akira’s huffed protests that he’s totally normal. With deft hands she pokes up and down the length of his ankle, gauging Akira’s pain with each press. 

After the third time Akira flinches with pain, Ryuji gently moves Akira’s leg out of reach. He seems to have gone back to worriedly hovering, and when Makoto realizes what’s happened she rolls her eyes but stops her inspection. 

“Ice,” Ryuji declares suddenly. “We need ice.” And then he’s rushing back downstairs, leaving Akira half-swooning from the chivalry. From across the room Morgana watches Akira judgmentally.    
  


 

**__________________________________**

  
  
  
  


One makeshift ice pack later, Akira’s got his ankle propped up and somewhat ready for the night. Ann leaves first with a warning that if he doesn’t take care of himself she’ll break his other leg. That’s just her way of saying she cares. 

Yusuke and Makoto leave shortly thereafter. The former with genuine well wishes and the latter with a threat that if Akira’s swelling isn’t down by tomorrow she’s dragging him to the nearest clinic for a checkup. 

Ryuji…

He seems reluctant to leave, preferring instead to sit on the edge of Akira’s bed, double and triple checking to see if he needs anything else. It’s getting later and later, and it’s only when there’s an hour or so before the last train does he even make to stand up. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” Ryuji asks for what might be the fifth time that day. Akira can’t help but laugh, he’d really had never taken Ryuji to be the doting type. 

“I’ll be fine. My ankle hurts; it’s not  _ broken.”  _

Morgana makes a grumbling noise, “With the way you whined about it, you’d think it  _ was  _ broken.”

Because Akira really and truly loves Morgana, and because he knows that deep down Morgana feels the same, he refrains from replying with anything other than a deep, long suffering sigh.    
  
"I'll be fine," Akira insists, giving Ryuji his best calming smile.    
  
"But what if you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and fall down the stairs?"   
  
"....Then Makoto's acting leader until all the bones in my back heal?"   
  
The look Ryuji gives him is unamused at best, only the way his lip twitches gives away how amused he actually is.    
  
After a terse moment of silence, wherein Akira has the burning feeling that he is missing something terribly important, Ryuji shrugs in acceptance. "If you insist you'll be okay I guess I'll have to trust you. You can always get Mona to bring you a bottle to pee in."   
  
"Gross!" Akira scrunches up his face in disgust.    
  
Said disgust melts away when Akira feels a hand in his hair. He looks up to lock eyes with Ryuji who looks vaguely surprised at himself, as if his hand moved without his full permission. 

“Sorry,” Ryuji says, retrieving his hand. Whether it’s for the hesitant petting or his earlier words, Akira doesn’t know. But before he can ask Ryuji’s grabbing his stuff and heading towards the stairs with a final cheery wave goodbye. 

Like a puppy with separation anxiety, Akira kinda misses Ryuji the moment he disappears downstairs. Which is just a testament to how much a sap he is, and he has the urge to claw that part of his brain out with his own two hands. 

Too bad that’s physically impossible. Luckily for him, Morgana attempts to handle that for him. The cat digs his claws into his beloved owner’s leg, and he looks vindicated with Akira yelps quietly in pain. 

“You are an  _ idiot,”  _ Morgana hisses. “How dense do you have to be to miss  _ that  _ many signals?” 

The question  _ Whose signals  _ is on the tip of Akira’s tongue, but he’s not a fool enough to not know who Morgana means. And he’s definitely not a fool enough to try and play dumb while Morgana’s full on glowering at him with hackles raised. 

On one hand he’s somewhat comforted by the fact that he didn’t just hallucinate the feeling that he wasn’t quite reading between  _ all  _ of the lines just now. But on the other hand he’s kinda petrified to actually  _ do  _ something about it. 

Which is the whole problem actually. 

Before his courage can fail him--and before his brain can kick in--Akira scrambles out of his bed to limp and one legged hop his way after Ryuji. 

Akira's ankle has healed enough to where there's only a minor stabbing pain shooting up his leg when he puts too much pressure on it. Ignoring the pain is easy as he rushes across the room, less so when he's half limping half falling down the stairs. 

Ryuji's just made it to the bottom of that staircase when he turns around, presumably to wonder what in the hell is stampeding towards him. He sputters in shock (or maybe horror) when he realizes it's Akira and not a tiny hoard of water buffalo. 

Scratch that. The true look of horror kicks when Akira, moving too fast and too clumsily, trips a bit three steps above Ryuji, sending him falling forward. 

Ryuji catches him easily, hands firm on Akira's waist. And if Akira wraps his arms around Ryuji's neck then it's purely instinctive. 

“What…?” Ryuji asks, voice a bit strained from the close call. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering the question--not that Akira  _ can  _ on account of having absolutely no fucking idea of what in the hell he's doing--he says, “It's late…”

“Yeah…?” the other responds tentatively. He doesn't know why his friend is pointing out the obvious, and his brow furrows a bit in confusion. It's cute. And totally not helping Akira form words. 

“It's late,” Akira repeats before taking a deep, calming breath. “It's late and the trains are  about to stop and...and I still owe you that sleepover.”

Ryuji's look of confusion is slowly replaced with a smile so big and genuine Akira wants to throw himself headlong down another flight of stairs for an entirely different reason. 

“You can't borrow my underwear, though,” Akira jokes, getting a fond huff of amusement in response as the other remembers their conversation at the gym days ago. 

“Don’t need ‘em.” Firm hands squeeze playfully at Akira's waist as Ryuji continues to smile. “I got extra clothes in my stuff. I don’t want your stink anywhere near my dick anyways.”

Bumping their chests together, Akira pouts. “I don’t stink. And is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes.”  

  
  
  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  


“Wanna watch a movie?” Ryuji asks two hours later, sprawled out comfortably on Akira’s bed. He’s changed into a thin hoodie and a pair of loose shorts, looking so soft and cuddly it should be illegal. 

Amused, Akira rolls over so that they’re laying facing each other. “You’re  _ still  _ not tired?” It’s a little past one in the morning now, and with the full day they’ve both had it’s kinda amazing that Ryuji’s still so full of energy. Even after two things of cup ramen picked up (by Ryuji of course, it would have taken half an hour if Akira had limped along) from the convenience store before it closed, a 20 minute phone call to Ryuji’s mom (who was adorably ecstatic that her son was having a sleepover with a friend), and a pretty decent gossip session, the night is still young apparently. 

“Who actually sleeps at a sleepover?” Ryuji whines, he shuffles closer to drape his upper body over Akira’s lap. “C’moooon, old man, don’t pass out on me.”

“We’re the same age, you asshole! But fine.” It’s almost laughable how whipped Akira is already and they’re not even dating. Morgana seems to notice that as well, because he snorts, amused--or maybe annoyed--as he tucks himself between two pillows to sleep. “Go pick a DVD and get the hell off of me.”

“Kay~”

Only half paying attention as he drags himself from the warm confines of his bed to the couch, Akira is really taken by surprise when the opening theme of  _ Bubbly Hills, 90210 _ starts up. A shocked, joyous laugh bubbles up out of his chest before he can stop himself. 

Ryuji’s in the middle of getting himself comfortable, sliding in behind Akira so that the latter can prop his leg on the arm of the couch. “Don’t laugh,” he growls, and he sounds so petulant Akira can’t help but to do what he’s been just commanded not to. “The only other one you have is  _ The Running Dead _ ‘nd I don’t wanna go to bed terrified!” 

“You don’t have to be so defensive,” Akira says, laughter got him relaxed enough where he doesn’t jump when he’s pulled backwards to rest against Ryuji’s chest. Akira dares to tilt his head back to tease, “I won’t tell anyone you love a good teen drama.” 

He gets a pinch in the side for the dig, but no response. 

Despite all his shit-talking Akira finds himself somewhat sucked into the drama fifteen minutes in. Normally heterosexual relationships in films are about as interesting as paint drying, but the bitchy main character playing every man she deems worthy enough to scam? Iconic really. 

Akira’s only complaint is the fucking hand mindlessly touching his stomach. It’s an intimate, warm touch that has him melting in a totally non-platonic way. He doesn’t even know if Ryuji is aware of what he’s doing, if the way he’s talking back to the TV anytime something dramatic happens is any indication of where his attention really is at the moment. 

Which means the hand idly playing with the waistband of his sweatpants, and half creeping underneath his shirt is wholly mindless. Akira doesn’t know how to feel about that. Mindless means there might be no intention behind it, but also it means even unconsciously Ryuji wants to touch him?

Again, Akira doesn’t really know what to make of it. All he  _ does  _ know is that he’s missed a good five minutes of action due to inner gay turmoil, and--oh! Now Ryuji’s rubbing slow, gentle circles right above Akira’s hip. It takes seconds before he’s damn near boneless. 

Before long Akira finds himself fighting sleep. He’s so comfortable and the protagonist is crying because she lost a headband (or killed boyfriend #5 he can’t recall) so it’s easy to just tune out the background noise and to go all limp, half-leaning on the couch and Ryuji’s chest. 

  
  
  


**6/26**

  
  
  


Ryuji has to bite back a laugh the first couple of times Akira’s head sleepily droops just for him to jerk back up seconds later. For the next fifteen minutes, Bubbly Hills, 90210 is only slightly overshadowed by Akira’s gallant struggle to stay awake, making sleepy little noises when he catches himself drifting off. 

Eventually Akira gives up the good fight and slumps over into the back of the couch. This time, now that there is no witness to his actions, Ryuji can make a sound of endearment in peace. After rearranging his sleeping friend so that his neck isn’t at such an awkward position, Ryuji lets him sleep. 

Not because he’s enjoying the feeling of Akira dozing against him--well he’s mostly dozing on the couch-- but because there’s maybe ten more minutes of the movie left and waking Akira up so soon feels so cruel. 

Yeah that’s it. 

Twelve minutes later Ryuji’s very gingerly sliding off the couch to stand up and stretch. His knees pop loudly in the stillness of the night, but still Akira doesn’t stir. Now that he has the opportunity, Ryuji studies Akira’s face, soft with sleep. 

He looks his a cat, curled in on himself and lips parted. Suddenly aware that he is indeed  _ staring,  _ Ryuji shakes Akira’s shoulder as non-violently as possible. “C’mon, bed time. If you sleep all twisted up like that you’ll end up with a busted neck too.” 

Still half asleep, Akira pouts, trying to turn away from the offending noise to burrow further into the couch. “Don’t….wanna….” he protests, when Ryuji continues to bother him. 

Continuous shoulder shaking and logical reasons as to why he should get the fuck up elicit nothing other than unintelligible whines to be left alone. Obstinate, sleepy Akira is cute as hell, a fact Ryuji is staunchly going to ignore. 

With a sigh of resignation, Ryuji grabs his friend by the arms to pull his dead weight up so that he might be deposited into his bed so that they can both go to sleep and so that Ryuji can wipe away all thoughts about the adorable snuffling noise Akira’s been making. 

It takes a bit of work, because Akira quite literally refuses to do any of the work, including not letting his limbs just  _ flop  _ about. But eventually Ryuji’s throwing Akira messily into bed and messily tucking him in. 

“Hee...to the ho…’nd we gotta go,” Akira mumbles, flopping back flat on the bed. His sleep mussed hair is messier than usual, a primal urge in Ryuji beckoning him to touch it. In the end he doesn’t. 

Morgana’s blue eyes blink open, bright and startling in the darkness, and filled with  _ judgement.  _ The cat doesn’t say anything with words, but the look he’s giving Ryuji screams  _ Back up you creeper or say goodbye to all of the skin on your stupid face.  _

And the message is readily received. Hastily, Ryuji stands up straight to retreat to his now free couch, but before he can get too far an uncoordinated hand is latching onto his arm. 

“You sleepin’ on the couch?” Akira manages to ask, sounding surprisingly coherent despite the fact that he can barely open his eyes. 

“Yeah? ‘Member we almost died trying to get the extra blankets down?” Ryuji tries to return the hand on his forearm to its owner, but Akira immediately--and just as uncoordinatedly-- reaches back out for him. 

“Sleep wi’ me,” he mumbles. 

Ryuji freezes. His eyes automatically go to Morgana who is  _ still  _ staring. If anything his eyes are burning even brighter with distrust. One wrong step and Ryuji really might wake up at the bottom of Ichigaya. How Morgana would get his body there he has no idea, but he doesn’t doubt the cat’s determination. 

With that in mind he turns back to Akira, adopting a tone one might reserve for children, or drowsy, pouty teenagers. “No, I’ll be fine on the couch. It’s no lumpier than my futon at home,” Ryuji reasons, even as Akira continues to tug at the hem of his hoodie. 

After his hospitable demands are rebuffed for the third time Akira forces himself to sit up, blinking blearily the whole time. “Get in the bed or I’ll stay up all night ‘nd tell Nijima-senpai you hin...hindered? Hindered my healing process.”

The threatening look Akira’s attempting is softened by the fact that he’s squinting and swaying in an attempt to stay awake, but it’s enough to wear Ryuji down. 

“Fine,” the blonde grumbles amusedly, already climbing over Akira’s legs so that he can wiggle his way into the side of the bed closest to the wall. “Don’t forget you basically blackmailed me into this and freak out in the morning.”

“I won’t,” Akira chirps, sounding half-asleep already. He pulls the covers up to his chin, wiggling a bit under the comforter and getting cozy. 

With one last fond eye roll Ryuji leans over to pluck Akira’s glasses off before tossing them to relative safety on the couch, then he makes himself comfortable. Well as comfortable as he can with a prickly talking cat commandeering a whole pillow, and another warm body next to him that he has to be mindful of. 

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Morgana hisses at Ryuji, breaking the peaceful rhythm of Akira’s even breaths and the faint sounds of cicadas bleeding through the window. 

Ryuji rolls over his side, facing Akira’s back. “Shut up,” he retorts, “I’m not some pervert. It’s too hot to spoon anyways.” Not that he wants to. Even though it would be so easy to throw a casual arm across Akira’s waist, and slot their legs together. And just like that, wondering if Akira is as soft and comfortable as he looks, Ryuji falls asleep. 

  
  
  
  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  
  


Akira wakes up late in the morning, limbs still heavy with sleep and intensely aware that he’s not alone in his bed. He has vague memories of tugging on Ryuji’s sleeve and getting him to not mess up his back on the couch, and for the sake of his dignity, he’ll deign to keep them that way.

The mid morning sunlight paints the whole attic in shades of gold, and the peace of the day as well as the heat of Ryuji’s back pressed against his soaks through him so that all Akira wants is to fall back asleep. 

He seriously considers it. He also considers rolling over for a round of platonic spooning, it wouldn’t be that much different from when they were watching the movie. But in the midst of coming up with ways to make mid-morning cuddling friendly and casual, Ryuji begins to stir. 

“‘M hungry,” he groans, voice still thick with sleep. Akira feels an elbow tap him in the back as the other stretches out with a groan. 

Inexplicably happy, Akira rolls over with a smile, “And good morning to you too.” Clumsily Ryuji rolls over as well so that they’re face to face, and if Akira thought he was prepared to see a sleep-rumpled Ryuji in his bed...he was  _ wrong.  _

By no means is he a pristine sleeping beauty. There are some pretty impressive marks on his cheek from the pillow, and his face is all pinched as if opening his eyes fully is an impossible struggle. Still there’s something about his totally natural, unguarded appearance in the shimmering summer sun that has Akira at a loss for words. His lack of glasses means everything is a bit fuzzy around the edges, but he sees enough to have his stupid heart fluttering. 

“Mornin’,” Ryuji sighs, oblivious to Akira’s mental turmoil, too busy rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Please tell me you remember practically  _ forcing  _ me into your bed last night.”

“I didn’t force you.” Akira can feel his face heating up as Ryuji laughs at him. A comfortable, sleepy sort of silence falls over the both of them, and when Ryuji finally drops his hand from eyes, he reaches out to poke Akira in the cheek. 

It’s a bit fuzzy so Akira’s not 100% sure but he thinks he can make out the other opening his mouth to say something, but before he can the faint noises downstairs get louder and louder until the crystal clear voices of Ann and Makoto can be heard from the top of the stairs. 

The two girls skid to a stop, Ann with intrigue and amusement (that’s clear even sans glasses from the very pointed  _ oh  _ she mutters under her breath, Makoto inquisitive more than anything, and Yusuke trailing behind the other two sounds positively  _ gleeful.  _

“I believe I’ve heard of this trope before,” Yusuke says, more to himself than to anyone else. “It’s when two people discover their mutual attraction for one another when they book a hotel room but it only has one bed.”

Akira groans, “Yusuke, oh my  _ god.” _

  
  
  


**__________________________________**

  
  
  
  


Turns out the rest of the team dropped by not only to intrude in what could have been a momentous moment in Akira’s young, gay life, but to see if Akira’s ankle was doing any better. When Ann couldn’t get ahold of Ryuji (considering that his phone somehow found its way tucked under Akira’s hip during the night) she figured Ryuji had invited himself to spend the night or his shitty grades had finally killed him. 

She was pleasantly surprised--as was Yusuke--to find that  _ Akira  _ had actually gotten a backbone in the mail and had done the inviting. Not that Akira was privy on letting any of them know his business, it was Morgana who had taken it upon himself to spill the beans. 

The worst part is the smidgen of gossip hadn’t even distracted Makoto enough so that she wouldn’t follow through on her threat to send him to the nearest doctor if the swelling hadn’t gone down. Akira argued that it  _ had,  _ and he could even put a little pressure on that leg, but the skin was still red and inflamed. 

Which is how he finds himself being carted to Takemi’s clinic against his will. Ryuji sets him down on the examination table carefully, and then for some reason pets Akira on the head amicably on the head once he’s settled. 

The friendly touch would send shivers down Akira’s spine anyways, but doubly so now that everyone is  _ watching  _ them like they’re a new primetime drama. Thankfully, Ryuji leaves with Yusuke and Ann in tow to pick up food from the convenience store leaving Akira alone with his stand in mother Makoto. 

“Hmmm,” Takemi hums, rolling over in her desk chair to inspect Akira’s “damage”. “My little guinea pig got hurt outside of business hours, hm?”

“To think I’d survive that last test medicine of yours only to get hurt from a fall,” Akira quips back. As soon as he says that Takemi pokes him in the ankle particularly hard, claiming it was an accident when Akira hisses in pain. 

Takemi continues to examine him, asking a few questions (and choosing not to investigate further on the mysterious “fall” that landed him there) about the pain and if they’ve been icing it. All in all it’s a relatively normal doctor’s visit, if your doctor wears six-inch spiky heels and possessing a questionable bedside manner. 

“So which one was loverboy?” Takemi asks apropos nothing after a moment. 

Akira blinks and looks at her to Makoto back to Takemi. “What?”

She sighs, as if elaborating is some kind of great injustice, “If I recall correctly you were escorted here by two equally chivalrous young men. And I’m wondering which of the two has had you swooning like a love sick school girl these past few weeks. My money’s on the blonde, but you know…”

“Are you getting relationship advice from your  _ doctor?”  _ Makoto blurts out, looking horrified? Concerned? Amazed? 

“I’m not getting relationship advice,” Akira huffs. He’s pretty sure that’s illegal somehow. “She just figured it out somehow.” 

Without even looking up from her clipboard Takemi says, “It wasn’t difficult. You’re very easy to read.” 

The offended noise Akira makes is drowned out by Makoto’s noise of agreement. “She has a point…”

“Can we get back to my ankle, please?” 

“Oh, that old thing?” Takemi makes a dismissive motion with her hand as if it weren’t the whole reason they even came to the clinic in the first place. “Obviously, it isn’t broken. Just a minor sprain. Keep it elevated and iced and the swelling will be completely gone in another day or two.” 

Akira sighs in relief that it won’t set back their Metaverse schedule back too far, and makes to slide off the examination table so that he can flee the clutches of Takemi before she gives him another  _ special medicine  _ or, worse yet, meddle in his business some more. 

Thanks to the wrapping on his ankle now, Akira can walk on his own with virtually no pain. A freedom he is incredibly happy to exercise for approximately fifty seconds until Ryuji reappears in the doorway ready for another round of “Cart the Wounded Idiot Around”. 

“Oh? You’re done?” he asks, face lighting up at the sight of Akira up all on his own. “And you’re walking! Does this mean I’ve been fired as your personal crutch?”

It seems that flirting with Ryuji has become something akin to second nature because in front of two witnesses (three if you count Morgana who’s been faking sleep for the past half hour, but always manages to be awake whenever there’s a chance of Akira embarrassing himself) he says, “Don’t worry. You can carry me across the threshold of LeBlanc one last time if you want.”

He swears he hears Makoto snort, something he’d never had thought the prim and proper Student Council President would ever do. Ryuji makes a noise of amusement as well, playfully stooping down in an attempt to catch him at the knees to lift him up. “Across the threshold means bridal style right? Hey--stop before you kick me!” 

They scuffle playfully for a minute before Makoto starts to shoo them out of the exam room with her leaving a suspiciously happy Takemi to go about her day. Before the three of them can get out of earshot she calls out a “Have fun with loverboy,” uncaring that Ryuji is  _ right there.  _

Akira ducks his head, face red, but not before he catches the triumphant grin on Ryuji’s face. 

He blames the whole thing on Kaneshiro. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends! i've been recollecting the shattered pieces of my psyche and working hard to write more and more frequently bc im dedicated to this! i wanted to do a s-link scene w/ yusuke but i couldn't get the timing right so we'll start there next time bc we need more yusuke!!! also the fight scene 6/25 is based off my most recent playthrough. i bought the izanagi dlc bc im a nostalgic idiot nd izanagi has really come thru in a pinch now that i'm playing on harder levels. 
> 
> oh yes! recently i designed an akiryu charm (bc when im not writing akiryu i'm drawing akiryu) nd if anyone's interested here's a [link! ](https://tictail.com/stellarsketches/persona-5-double-sided-charms)
> 
> i just wanna say thanks to everyone who's left kudos and left comments seriously all of yall are so sweet nd do i deserve it with my fragile sensibilities and virgo habit of doing 20 million things at once and finishing them all slowly? i sure don't! but ya'll deserve the world! so i shall see u next time where there will 100% be some drama. minor drama. but drama.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first long fic like this so i have no idea what im doing but i am gonna finish this i promise u that. but anyways i hope u like the first chapter! my plan is to follow the main timeline while adding some (gay) things, most major battles will be skipped but i can't guarantee everything will be spoiler free but i'll be sure to include warnings in the notes of spoiler heavy chapters. i just want to explore akiryu's dynamic throughout the game bc i love them that much and i have no life. 
> 
> also....if u wanna see more of my content check out my [artblog!](stellarsketches.tumblr.com)


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